


Bloody Things and Broken Wings

by Smidget



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Peter Parker Whump, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2020-09-27 14:42:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 26,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20409460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smidget/pseuds/Smidget
Summary: It’s been six years since the Snap. In a world where Tony Stark never met Peter Parker and said hero wasn’t snapped, he had no motivation to go back and reverse it. But what happens when an injured Spider-themed vigilante crashes into his daughter’s balcony in the middle of the night?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello peeps! I hope everyone is doing well! I'm sorry updates have been infrequent of the late; I just moved into my dorm for my first year of college this weekend, so things have been a bit crazy. Classes start tomorrow and I'm hoping to get into the swing of things very soon and be able to get a schedule going once again. Hopefully by this time next week, but no promises.
> 
> I was being very irritable about the whole Spidey out of the MCU thing and had the thought that if Peter never existed in the MCU, Tony had no motivation to create time travel, which we know was mainly done with hopes of saving him, so, in theory, Tony never died, yeah? Partially based on this idea and partially based on a whump prompt from a list on my tumblr ("it's been 6 years!"), this thing was born. So, no real notes here, except I hope you enjoy! (And don't ask me why it's in present tense and everything else is not, I have no idea. It just felt right for this one.)

He's sleeping when it happens.

Well, if he's being honest, when is he ever sleeping? Rarely, even these days. So no, he's not sleeping. He's laying in bed with his wife, holding her close and _wishing_ he was sleeping when it happens.

The sound of lots of glass shattering from a short distance away is what jolts him up. Tony bolts up in the bed, hissing out a panicked breath through his teeth and already letting the nanotechnology take shape around him.

"Tony-" Pepper is sitting up too, her eyes wide as she stares at him. "What-"

"Stay here until I'm sure it's safe," he orders without waiting for her to finish, and is gone from the room after his daughter in an instant.

This is why he hates coming into the city. Pepper had to come in for a big board meeting, and since Morgan also wanted to come, and he's the one who'd have the time to take care of her… well, here he is. But when he's at home, at their cabin in the woods, far removed from the rest of the world, life-endangering shit like this doesn't happen. No one even knows they exist out there except for a select handful of people, and certainly no one does anything crazy or dangerous like attack a tower and bust out a window.

Not that he's sure it's a window necessarily that was knocked out, but a direct attack is the most likely option. He's always had a lot of enemies, and now a lot of people blame him (and/or Cap) for the Snap. He'd done the best he could, though, and it wasn't his fault Cap didn't listen to him when it mattered. He knows that; the general public didn't necessarily know it, though.

He was fine with that. Was used to living that way. And now, after six years, the worst of it was over. It was awful, but the world had started spinning again, had picked up and kept moving. He had been spared from the worst of the grief going on around him; no one majorly important to him had been dusted. He knew people, sure, many of them heroes, but he had Pepper and Happy and Rhodey and most of the team were still around. So while he had moments where he was upset, and he'd certainly been affected, he isn't half as bad off as most people. If anything he is grateful for it to an extent, for giving him the possibility of the future he now has.

A future that's possibly now in danger with that loud crash.

He runs into Morgan's room, expecting to find his daughter probably freaking out or hiding in the bathroom to avoid whatever made that sound. Instead he finds an empty room.

"Morgan?" Tony shouts. If there's someone in the Tower, if someone took her-

"Daddy!" His little girl's voice comes from outside of her room, somewhere else on the floor. Tony rushes out and into the living area, which _of course_, has a glass wall to the outside, and maybe that's where it came from, and Morgan is out there, although he has no idea why and if someone is out there with her he's going to-

All of his thoughts skip to a stop when he sees the sight in front of him.

Morgan is there, all right. She's kneeling in a pile of glass, but she appears to be okay. The person she's kneeling beside, however, is not. A crumpled form of a person in red and blue. Blood is spreading rapidly underneath them, but Morgan seems too preoccupied with the masked vigilante to notice it's getting on her too.

"Morgan?" Tony calls cautiously.

Her little head snaps up, wide brown eyes full of heartfelt despair fixing on him immediately. "Daddy! Help! It's Spider-Man, but he's hurt!"

Tony stifles the groan in his throat at the look in his daughter's eyes. Spider-Man. The only hero post-snap, really. Sure, the Avengers were around still, most of them, and they'd come to duty if they were called, but… they'd failed. None of them really wanted a repeat. Although considering just how badly they'd failed, it probably wasn't possible for it to happen again on that scale.

Especially now. The stones are gone; Thanos destroyed them shortly after the Snap. Cap and Scott had come up with a half-baked plan of time travel, a little over a year ago now, but Tony hadn't been able to figure out how to make it work. In truth, he didn't really want to. It wasn't worth the risks, not for him. And so the Avengers had mostly retired, and stayed retired. Spider-Man was the only one who could still be found swinging around all the areas he always had, although he'd expanded to cover more ground in recent years. He could be found almost anywhere in the city, now, but Tony remembers the days when he was still just a Queens superhero. He's always kept tabs on him - probably more diligently in recent years, what with his lack of old preoccupations and also because he knew inside that if by some twist of fate he decided to go bad, he was the only one around who could be close enough and willing to try to stop him. His fears in that area had always proved to be folly, but he didn't stop.

He's also saved his neck a few times from keeping those tabs on him, in everything from keeping the authorities away to sending them in depending on the situation and the danger of it. He was also the one who'd anonymously donated his new suit. Still, no one knows that but him.

The suit he'd given to the vigilante was in shreds, based on the look of it. Lord only knew what he'd gotten into or how he'd ended up here, but Tony knows he has to act fast, or there'll be no saving him.

"Daddy!" Morgan cries, more insistently, apparently mistaking his thoughts for hesitation. "Please!"

"I'm coming," Tony responds immediately, walking over and carefully crouching beside the vigilante. "But you gotta go, hun. Back to bed with you." He tries to shoo her gently away, but the little girl dodged his attempts.

"I can't!" she exclaims. "He's stuck to me!" She holds up her arm, which indeed has the hero's hand clamped around it, and gives it a slight shake to show she's telling the truth. His hand doesn't budge at all.

Tony sighs. He knows he could just make her take the jacket off and be unstuck, but… Spider-Man is her favorite hero. He knows trying to make her go anywhere will be greeted with a tantrum that will know no bounds. "Okay," he concedes. "Well, I need to move him to be able to do anything for him, Mo. Why don't you grab his legs and we'll haul him to the Medbay-"

"No!" Morgan looks at him like he's insane. "You can't take him to the Medbay! All the doctors and nurses will see his face!"

"Yes, but they'll also save his life," Tony explains as patiently as he can. "He's really hurt. I don't think I'm qualified-"

"But you're Iron Man! You've been hurt before and patched yourself up! Mommy has helped! You guys can do it together!" Tony frowns, unconvinced, but she pushes on, giving him the puppy eyes. "Please, Daddy! You can't trust them! Not with that, not without his permission!"

It's the last part that makes him pause. If it were him, he'd be pissed to find out that someone had exposed him without his permission, even if it were to save his life, he admits to himself, begrudgingly. Sighing, he nods. "Grab his legs, then. We'll get him into a room and-"

"Oh my God!" Tony looks up to find Pepper standing in the doorway, staring at the scene in front of her with horror. Of course she didn't stay in the bedroom until he gave her the all clear like he told her too. She's just too stubborn for that. "Tony, what the hell is going on?"

"I don't-" he starts, but Morgan cuts him off, springing to her feet.

"He crashed through the wall, Mom! It looked like he was already asleep when he fell." Then she raises her arm, beaming, showing Pepper the same thing she had Tony. "Look! He's stuck to me!"

Tony and Pepper exchange a look. They both know that the Spider-Man is not exactly asleep but neither of them really want to say it. So Tony clears his throat and asks instead, "How did you see what happened, Morgan?"

The six year old shrugs. "I had come out to the kitchen to get a snack. He crashed in while I was on my way back."

Her parents exchange another look, but neither of them wants to ask her what she was really doing up right now and they both know they don't really have the time to waste interrogating her. So he just nods and gestures Pepper over, and together they all carefully lift the unconscious hero and carry him to the nearest guest bedroom. The only thing they get in response is a feeble groan.

Well, that's a good sign. At least he's still alive. But he won't be for much longer if they don't staunch that bleeding.

Tony looks over at his wife and daughter. At some point, the hero's hand had fallen off of his daughter's arm, and now Pepper is kneeling in front of her, looking over her for cuts and making sure none of the blood on her pajama pants is actually hers. Tony lets out a long breath, running his hands through his hair. This is a bad idea, and he needs help Tony isn't sure he can satisfactorily provide, but he doesn't have much choice, now. Even if he hadn't agreed to Morgan to take care of him himself, it's the middle of the night. A little after three am, a quick glance at the nearest clock confirms. Even if he decides to call an outside doctor, it would be too long before any of them get here.

"Take Morgan and get her cleaned up and back to bed," he tells Pepper, stifling a sigh. "I'm going to see what I can do here. I'll call for you if I need you."

Pepper nods, throwing one last worried glance at the vigilante spread out and bleeding on their guest bed before picking Morgan up and sweeping out of the room.

Tony retrieves the nearest first aid kit and returns to the bed. This is the uncomfortable part. At the very least, he and Pepper and probably Morgan too will end up seeing the masked hero's face. Not to mention with the extent of his wounds, he's going to have to undress him. He knows how to get the suit off - he designed it, after all - but he feels semi-bad for invading his privacy. Still, it's be revealed to (and be seen nearly naked by) a total stranger or die from his injuries, so assuming the young hero has any sense, he knows what he would have picked were he conscious.

So Tony hits the spider emblem on the chest and watches all the bits of it that are still cohesively attached un-suction from his body, then carefully maneuvers him out of the suit. There's some faint moans coming from above him, but he ignores them for the most part.

Once it's off, he simply tosses the remains of the suit to the floor. The room is already going to need a major cleaning after this anyway, and he'll deal with it when he gets the time.

He approaches the top of the bed again. He's left his mask on up until this point, but if the way it's soaked with blood is any indication, the man underneath has at least one head wound. Leaving it on is not an option. So, as gently as he can, he grips the edge of the mask and pulls it off.

Then he freezes.

Under the mask is… a kid.

Well, he's not probably legally a kid, but even if he isn't, he's definitely not very old. Tony would bet the tower he's standing in right now that he's not even old enough to drink.

Just his luck. Although whether it's good or bad, he isn't sure yet.

And then he sets to work on him. First stopping all the bleeding he can find, then cleaning the wounds, sewing them up if needed, bandaging them, setting the bones that he can see are broken. He doesn't know what Spider-Man got into, but it clearly messed him up good. Broken ribs, a leg that seems to be shattered in a way he doesn't know if he can even set properly, burns and lacerations all over, a nasty head wound, and multiple other wounds that appear to be similar to gunshot wounds but are cleaner and with no clearly defined enter and exit holes.

When he's done, he's a mess. His clothes are probably ruined, what with the amount of blood all over him, and he's also got it all the way up to his elbows, literally. Still, the kid is still breathing, and the worst of his injuries are taken care of, so he considers it a win.

He goes into the bathroom and scrubs his arms off the best he can, knowing there's no point in changing clothes before cleaning the kid up but still wanting rid of the nasty feeling of another person's blood coating his hands. So he washes his hands before filling up a small tub with soapy water and returning to the kid on the bed.

He sets the tub down and carefully gets the comforter, which had soaked up most of the blood, out from under the kid so that he's no longer laying in it, then tosses it to the floor with the ruined suit before laying him back down. There is no point in cleaning him up while he's laying in a puddle of his own blood.

It's while he's working on cleaning him up that Pepper finally returns. She stops in the doorway and looks apprehensively over the scene in front of her. "How is he?" she finally asks, quietly.

Tony looks up at her when she speaks and then turns his attention back to the kid in front of him. "Young," he murmurs, before he can really think about it. "And… it's pretty bad, Pep, but I think he'll make it."

"You think?" She glances at him, brow furrowed.

Tony simply sighs and looks at her, pained. "He lost a lot of blood, okay? And I have no idea what the inside looks like. He could be bleeding internally or something and I wouldn't have any idea." He looks back down at him, brushing a lock of wet hair absentmindedly from his eyes. "He's so young. I never expected…" He lets the sentence trail off, realizing he has no idea what he'd actually expected, but this wasn't it.

Pepper always seems to know what he's thinking without him actually having to say it, though. She just shakes her head. "He's probably barely an adult," she agrees, her voice barely above a whisper. "I wonder if anyone is missing him right now."

"No way to know until he wakes up," Tony says. He sighs, rubbing his eyes once. "Help me move him to a clean guestroom? Preferably where we can keep an eye on him." Closer to them meant closer to Morgan, too, he knew, but he needs to keep an eye on him. If something changes before morning… Anyway, it's not that he's worried that the man in the suit would hurt her, but more so that she'll sneak in and bother him, but there isn't much he can do about that besides have Jarvis keep an eye on her room too and alert him to it. Hopefully he can catch her before she can bother him, come morning.

"Of course."

A few minutes later, they have Spider-Man settled into a clean guest room down the hall from where they're sleeping, and have the other one cleaned up as best as they can do. Tony knows he's out of stuff to do, that he can and should go back to bed and hopefully actually sleep, but he just can't do it. He's got too many thoughts swirling around his head. He showers, thinking maybe that will make him feel better, and maybe help him relax enough to sleep, but no such luck. So after he checks on everyone else in the tower, he does the only thing he can do: he goes to his workshop and goes to work.


	2. Chapter 2

Things are flashing. Banging. Raw wrists, wounds and pain from a struggle he doesn’t remember. A spray of red, the sound of glass shattering into a billion tiny pieces. Something touches his arm-

Peter jerks awake in the bed and very nearly screams, both from the dream still in his head and the pain of the motion. Some kind of sound must escape him, even though he doesn’t realize it because he’s doubled over in pain, head spinning wildly, when he realizes the feeling of someone touching his arm is real, someone rubbing his back, and he feels the need to heave but there’s nothing in his stomach to even come up. 

“Easy, kid, calm down,” a voice is saying. “It was just a dream.” 

The words do little to soothe him. Not only because he’s in a strange place with strange people  _ again _ , but because it wasn’t just a dream. The pain throughout his whole body makes  _ that  _ much very clear. 

And  _ fuck _ , if he isn’t in so much pain. It makes everything even more fuzzy and unreal than before. Did he actually escape? Is this a dream, or perhaps him waking up from whatever punishment had come his way from the attempt? That would certainly explain the pain, although he’s never been messed up by them quite this bad before. 

The voice is breaking into his head again. “Kid,  _ calm down _ . I don’t want to hurt you but if you don’t stop I  _ will _ have to restrain you.” 

It’s then that Peter realizes he’s started thrashing violently, and the hands are now on his wrists, cold and firm, pressing him down against whatever is underneath him and restraining his hands. The voice is gruff but not unkind, and it’s not one he’s ever heard before, at least not from the people who he’d been with before this. The words register only dimly, but it’s enough for him to realize what he’s doing and for him to make the conscious choice to force his muscles to relax, definitely not wanting to be restrained again. 

So he stops, laying there and breathing hard for a long few minutes before finally working up the nerve to crack open his eyes. 

The man who had spoken is still leaning over him, his hands around his wrists, using his body weight to keep him pinned to the bed and watching him with cautious dark brown eyes. Peter is sure he’s never seen him before, and that actually makes him feel slightly better. At least if he’s been kidnapped again, this is someone entirely new. He can work with that. Especially since they weren’t smart enough to tie him up, although that was probably because they assumed he isn’t going anywhere with as much pain as he’s in. They’re probably right, although he’ll never admit that - but wait, didn’t this guy say he’s  _ not  _ going to hurt him? That must count for something, though he’s definitely been lied to about it before. 

“Jesus, kid,” the man mutters, shaking his head. He doesn’t seem to notice Peter’s eyes are actually open now. “Do you have any idea how long it’s been since I’ve had to break these out? My wife would kill me if she saw this right now.” 

Peter frowns, unsure what he’s talking about, then his eyes alight on the hands wrapped around his wrists. They’re red, glinting in the light from the bedside lamp, and cool against his skin. He knows that this means something, can feel the niggle in the back of his mind that tells him he should know what it is, but nothing is coming to him. His head hurts too badly, and he just can’t think, can’t focus on anything more than what’s in front of him. 

The man seems to see this and to sense that all the fight has drained out of him, and his eyes soften. “Oh, we’re with it now, yeah? Good. If you promise not to swing at me anymore, I’ll get off of you now.”

“Swing-“ His voice is low and crackily and his throat feels like sandpaper. He swallows thickly. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles, unsure what else to say and feeling incapable of saying much more. 

“Don’t be. Nightmares, panic attacks, flashbacks - whatever it was, I’ve had them all too, so don’t feel bad.” He looks at him for another moment, then slowly sits up and releases his wrists. “I’ll get you some water. It’d probably be less painful for both of us if you just stay there and don’t try to move while I’m gone.” He gets up and walks out before Peter can muster up a response.

Peter glances around, trying to get his bearings. He appears to be in a bedroom - an underused one, if the barren surroundings are any indication. A guest room, then. How did he get here? Everything is so blurry. He knows he put up a hell of a fight to escape the place he was being kept before they could move him out of the city like he’d heard them say they were planning to. He clearly made it out of the building, wherever the hell that had been, but everything after that is a blur. From there to here… he doesn’t even know how far he’d made it. Far enough not to be held by the same people, but when you were the only reliable superhero in a city like New York, you were bound to be a target. And even if this man had rescued him, he could still want something. 

Sighing a little, Peter cautiously moves the blanket and lifts his shirt, checking to see the extent of his current wounds. They’re all covered by bandages so he can’t see the full extent of the damage, but they definitely feel worse than he remembers. Not that he’s not surprised they aren’t getting better as quick as they should. He doesn’t remember the last time he’s had a real meal. Even before this latest capture… well, things since half of everyone disappeared have been rough, to say the least. So they look really bad, but he’s sure he’s had worse, and he can’t stay in this position, so he puts his arms down and tries to push himself up into a sitting position-

-then cries out and doubles over, almost falling off the edge of the bed between the dizziness and the nausea that immediately take hold of him at even the slightest bit of movement. 

He’s holding on to the nightstand with a sweaty grip and both cursing and rejoicing at the fact that there’s nothing in his stomach to hurl up when the man returns. He hears the door open as if from far away and then a low curse, then the man is rushing over, gently pushing him back into the bed. “This is exactly why I told you to stay still!” he tells him, sounding exasperated. Peter lets himself be pushed back down, in too much pain to fight back even if he wanted to, and is surprised when he looks up as his eyes refocus and sees the concern in the elder man’s eyes for a brief second as the world swims in and out of focus. “Hey, kid, stay with me,” he urges softly.

Peter blinks a few times and takes some breaths, not speaking for a moment. “I’m not a kid,” he says at last. It’s the only response he has to what just happened. 

The mans sighs, rolling his eyes. They alight on the nightstand, and he seems to remember the reason he’d left the room for then and picks up the glass of water, helping him take a drink. “First of all, everyone less than half my age is a kid when you get to be as old as I am. Second of all, I doubt you’re even old enough to drink. That’s literally still a kid.” 

Peter swallows it greedily, drinking most of it in a few gulps before the cup is pulled away gently and he has to stop. He licks his lips, forcing himself to take a breath and answer. “I’m almost old enough,” he mutters.

“Right. I’m sure you are.” He looks down at him, those dark eyes contemplative and almost hesitant, as if unsure if he really wants to ask, but then he does. “So can I get you to tell me your name, or do I have to look it up?”

“Who wants to know?” Peter shoots back instantly. “Because I’m sick of being the victim and if you’re working for someone-“

“The only person I work for is myself,” the man interrupts. If Peter didn’t know better he would say he looks almost amused, but he’s hiding it behind his concern. “And I’m the only person who wants to know. Considering I saved your life…”

“I’ve had it saved only to be taken away before,” Peter says quietly. “That means nothing to me.”

“Well, I know it’s hard to believe these days, but not everyone around you is a criminal or a psychopath. And I would greatly appreciate it if you would at least tell me what to call you for the duration of your stay.” 

Any tension that had seeped out of him returns immediately. “Duration?” Peter starts trying to sit up again. “I can’t-“

A firm hand on his shoulder keeps him down. “Stay?” the man finishes. “Well, you certainly can’t leave in your state. Besides, you’ve been missing from the street for weeks and the world has kept turning. I don’t think taking a few to recover will kill anyone.” 

It actually might, Peter wants to argue, but he’s caught on something else he’s said instead. “Weeks?” he repeats weakly. “I’ve been gone for weeks? How… there’s no way. How do you even  _ know _ that?” 

He just sighs again, giving him an indecipherable look. “Look, it’s not important. Can I get your name or not?”

Peter stares at him for a long moment, then closes his eyes and mutters, “Peter. My name is Peter.”

“Good to know. What’s the last thing you remember, Peter?”

Some far off part of Peter notes that the man still hasn’t told him his name even though he just gave him his, and while a small part of him thinks he should panic, another part keeps him from doing so, forcing him to focus on the question. “Clearly?” he asks, just to clarify, and the man nods. “Fighting. I think I took a nasty knock to the head at some point and between that and probably blood loss, everything after that is blurry.”

“So you don’t happen to remember, say, passing out and free falling through a glass wall?” he questions, looking at him with dark intensity.

Peter’s eyes go wide. He remembers hearing glass shattering, but he had thought that was in his head. “I thought I’d heard glass, but… consciously, no.” 

“That’s because you were unconscious when it happened, according to eyewitness accounts.” He paused. “I just wondered how reliable that particular testimony is when there’s only one eyewitness and she happens to be my six year old daughter who was up getting a snack at the time.” 

His eyes get even wider, if that’s even possible. “I- I am so sorry, sir, I didn’t know, obviously I didn’t mean to-“

“Obviously not. And don’t worry, she’s more upset about the fact that she couldn’t talk to her favorite superhero when it happened than the fact that he came crashing through the glass into her home at 3 am.” The elder man offers him a small, wry smile. “You stuck to her arm for a little bit while you were unconscious. I know that can’t be the suit, so you’re just… natural sticky?”

“Uh, sometimes, when I want to be or when I’m not in a state to control it- what do you know about my suit?” Peter asks, feeling utterly confused. He feels like this whole conversation has done nothing but make him more confused. He’s gaining nothing from it.

“Don’t worry about it,” the man tells him, then promptly keeps him from answering by holding the cup up to his lips. Peter wants to counter that he absolutely is worried about it, but he wants the water more, and so he focuses on draining the cup instead. He hasn’t had pure water in- well, since before this most recent kidnapping, and that’s been weeks, apparently. 

He finishes all the water and lays his head back. He’s exhausted, from the conversation and from his efforts earlier. He still feels like hell - perhaps even worse than before, now that he’s not as dehydrated and he’s more alert. The pain and his hunger even that fact that he’s still extremely dehydrated can be felt as clear as day. He debates the merits of asking this man for anything more than he’s already given him. Anything else he asks for is going to give some amount of information about him away that he is not prepared to give, and anyway, what he’s done is already too much. 

Even if he’s actually a nice guy, Peter can’t stay. He has other places to be and if it’s been weeks then no doubt his absence has been noticed from various places by now. He just needs to find a new hidey hole to crawl into and stay there for a while. Still, as much as he doesn’t like it, he’s not going anywhere without pain meds. And it’s either steal them or ask for them, and considering his current range of motion and the fact he’ll probably be able to figure out how many he took either way, there’s no point in not just asking. 

Peter sighs. “I don’t suppose you have anything for pain, do you?” 

“Nothing that’s going to do much with the injuries you’re sporting,” he says, looking remorseful. “I have some over the counter stuff on hand. Nothing you’ll want to take on an empty stomach, though.” 

He bits his lip, thinking about it for a moment. He’s been in captivity and on a drip for weeks. The likelihood he can keep much solid food of any kind down is going to be incredibly low. And that generic over the counter stuff isn’t going to do shit for his metabolism. But he can’t tell this guy either of those things, so he shakes his head. “No thanks then. I should probably be going anyway.” He’ll just have to make do. He starts struggling into an upright position, groaning a bit as it pulls on his broken ribs and all the wounds peppered across his torso and arms. “Thanks so much for your help, but-”

A hand is on his shoulder again, trying to pull him back down. “Now hold on just a minute. If you think I’m letting you walk right out of here-”

“Oh, great, here it comes,” Peter mumbles, and he already sounds so weary, even to his own ears. He’s so tired of being a target, of never being able to trust anyone. He knows fighting his way out of this is going to hurt like hell, but he’ll give it his best shot, if he absolutely has to. “If you’re seriously going to try to keep me here-“

“There’s no try,” the man scoffs, pushing him back flat against the bed. Peter would normally have the strength to push him right off, but he just can’t leverage his upper body against the weight, not with the pain he’s in. He’s so tired and weak and hurt right now. “You’re staying, kid. I don’t care if I actually have to restrain you. I’m not going to let you go out there and hurt yourself more, or end up back in whatever hellhole you fought your way out of. You’re staying until  _ I  _ deem you’re well enough to go.” 

Peter closes his eyes, only half listening past the part where it became obvious he was going to keep him here one way or another, only half-able to focus through the pain and panic growing in his head as he tries to hide his growing feeling of desperation. “Please, sir. I’ll be fine, and I don’t know anything, I don’t  _ have _ anything- if you think you’ll get something from helping me, I don’t have anything, and if this is about the Avengers again, I swear I don’t know anything about them or where any of them are and I promise you they don’t give a shit about me, so if you’re thinking you can use me, you’re wrong. I’ve got  _ nothing _ for you.  _ Please _ just let me go.”

He stops and takes a shuddering breath, not opening his eyes. The room has gone deathly quiet in the midst of his begging, so much so if it weren’t for the sound of the man’s thundering heart beside his head, Peter might think he left. He knows there’s nothing else he can say that will help his case, no threats he can make when they both know he’s in no state to follow through. 

Finally the man swallows hard and lets out a small , shaky breath. “No can do, kiddo. Get some sleep, and we’ll talk about this in the morning.” He gets up, and Peter can hear his footsteps starting to retreat. 

He doesn’t want to move, and he’s so drained he couldn’t argue anymore if he wanted to. But he has one last question left to ask. “I told you my name. Don’t I at least get something to call you, too? Or are you one of  _ those _ captors who won’t tell me anything? Because I can give you a name in my head, but it probably won’t be flattering.” His voice is failing him. Closing his eyes wasn’t his best idea; he’s barely holding on to consciousness now, but he forces himself to focus long enough to hear the answer. 

There was a pause and a creak as the door cracks open, and for a second he thinks the man is just going to walk out without answering. Then he hears the sigh, and a quiet response that makes his gut twist in ways he can’t begin to unravel right now because he’s already fading fast. 

“Call me Tony,” comes the quiet answer. “Now go to bed, kid.” 

And Peter does, the darkness reclaiming his consciousness before the door even fully closes behind him.


	3. Chapter 3

Tony feels sick.

He's so, _so_ sick inside right now.

He hadn't been able to sleep, so he'd gone down to the lab to work. Friday alerted him at some point in the night that the kid was freaking out and having crazy vitals, so he'd gone up to check on him and discovered him having a nightmare.

The results of that conversation had been… astounding, to say the least.

He'd done a bit of research on what the spider-kid had been into recently while he was still in the lab. Turns out he'd been off the grid for the last two weeks. After hearing him speak and seeing his injuries and reactions, Tony is sure he'd been abducted and kept somewhere for at least most of that. He can't imagine what the kid has been through, not even close to its entirety, but he has a fair idea of what some of it has been about now.

He's so tired, he's so young, he's so weak, he doesn't even recognize Iron Man in front of him, and his begging… God, Tony was almost tempted to tell him back there that he'd let him go, even though the logical side of him knew that the kid wouldn't make it as far as the door on his own, and he wasn't actually holding him captive in the first place. Against his will, maybe, and yeah, Tony was totally serious about tying him down if he tries to hurt himself again in any form, but only because he wants to help the kid.

And Peter isn't even surprised at his situation. He's hurting, he's scared, but he's also remarkably calm. Like he's done this a million times before and is more tired than afraid.

Tony hates it. He hates it with a burning passion and he doesn't even fully understand why.

But nothing compares to when Peter's begging to be let go and trying to convince him he's useless and just throws out the Avengers.

..._if this is about the Avengers again, I swear I don't know anything about them or where any of them are and I promise you they don't give a shit about me_…

_Again_. As if it's not the first time he'd been abducted and presumably tortured by people trying to find the Avengers. Trying to find _him_. And the fact that the kid seems to wholeheartedly believe that they really don't care about him, that they had the slightest inkling this was going on and had left him to the wolves anyway...

Tony slides down the wall against the inside of his workshop as soon as the door closes behind him, holding his head in his hands. When he heard those words leave the kid's lips, he had wanted to pass out, or run, whichever he could do quicker. He couldn't make himself do it, had known he had to reassure the kid before making an escape, but now…

Now the panic and guilt he's been holding off through the entire conversation hit him full force. He covers his face with his hands and struggles to control the oncoming attack. This is his fault. It's all his fault. If he hadn't failed… if he had maybe reached out to the kid instead of watching him from a distance all this time…

Tony stays on the floor until the sun rises, covering the lab in a soft early morning glow of brights colors. He thinks and he worries and he plans and he has a few panic attacks, if he's honest. But eventually he gets up. He knows what he has to do.

Hours later, Peter wakes up slowly, peacefully, stirred by the early morning light shining through the window and the faint sounds around him as the world starts waking up to face the day.

He'd like to say that he's feeling infinitely better, the way he normally does after he gets seriously injured and has a nice good rest while his body shuts down and repairs him. But that's when he's running on full power and has had adequate food and water and sleep sometime in the last few weeks, so he's not surprised that he almost feels worse now than he did when he blacked out. Better is going to be a long time coming.

He rubs his eyes and looks around. The room looks much the same as it did last night. He feels something is different, something making his Spidey senses tingle, but whatever it is, he's not sure.

Until he tries to sit up again and hears clinking.

He freezes. His hands are free - he can see them, he's _using_ them - but clinking of chains is unmistakable to his ears. And it's not on his neck, so that leaves…

He throws the blanket off of him and stares at the small silver cuff on his ankle.

It's just one, on the leg that's not completely wrecked, cuffed around the ankle with a chain leading off the side of the bed. If Peter has to guess, it's probably hooked to the bed somehow, meaning he'd either have to snap it or break or move the bed for him to get even completely off of it. So much for him not being a prisoner.

He sighs. He can't say he's surprised; he's really not. He's disappointed, and tired, but he's not surprised.

He _is_ surprised when he looks up to see a little girl with wide brown eyes staring at him from the doorway. He didn't even hear her come in. He freezes, lowering himself into the pillows slowly. His brain is going ninety miles a minute, trying to figure out what he should say, but she speaks before he can.

"You're Spider-Man, right?"

His mind goes back to last night, the man telling him he'd crashed through the window in front of his young daughter. She'll know who he is one way or another. "Yeah, I'm Spider-Man," Peter answers quietly. "But when I'm not in the suit I go by Peter." He offers her the best smile he can manage, which is still small but gentle. "What's your name?"

She hesitates, as if weighing whether she should give her name to a stranger versus the fact said stranger was a hero. Eventually seems to come to a decision as she says, "I'm Morgan." She takes a tentative step closer. "Why did you crash through our window last night?"

Peter stares at her, biting his lip as he tries to think of the best PG answer that won't raise more questions. "I… was hurt. I blacked out and I couldn't help it, so I just… fell."

"Who hurt you?" Her eyes are somehow dark and bright at the same time, that dark shade of brown but glowing with emotion.

"Bad people."

"Why?"

"Because I tried to stop them," he tells her, patiently. "They didn't like that, and we fought, and I… lost." He shouldn't be telling her too much, as much for her safety as his own, but he doubts she's going to tell anyone. She's an innocent little girl, and if the man - Tony, he vaguely reminds himself - is to be believed, she's… a fan of his? Weird, he didn't know that was a thing exactly, but he doubts she'd do anything to hurt him.

Which is all the more reason why he feels like he owes her an apology. "I'm sorry about last night, Morgan," he continues softly. "About crashing through the window and scaring you, and sticking to you and all that." He has vague memories now of the little girl being there as he passed out, the way she held his hand and talked to him.

Morgan just smiles brightly back at him. "It's okay. I didn't mind. I was just glad to help." She's at the edge of his bed now, looking at him with those wide doe eyes. "Daddy always gets hurt when he does hero stuff too. I convinced him to fix you up himself so the doctors didn't see your face too." She peers up at him through her eyelashes, suddenly antsy. "I hope you don't mind us seeing you. We didn't really have a choice, and… I didn't want you to die."

Peter blinks, surprised at the sudden change in her demeanor. "_Oh_. Hey, Morgan." He reaches out cautiously, forcing himself to keep his hand steady, and gently tilts her head up so he can meet her eyes. Then he smiles at her again. "I don't mind you seeing me, Mo. I know you just wanted to help, and I'm so grateful for everything you did last night. Just… my name has to be a secret, okay? You can't tell anyone who I am, or I can't be Spider-Man anymore."

Her face brightens considerably. "Really? I won't tell anyone, I promise!"

"Thanks." Peter pulls his hand away from her chin, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. It suddenly occurs to him that it's really early and that one or both of them could get in trouble for her being in here, so he clears his throat. "Uh, Morgan, are you… supposed to be in here?"

Morgan just shrugs, brown eyes wide and _trying_ to look innocent, but this time he sees a glint of mischief behind them. "Am I bothering you?"

Peter frowns. "No, of course not, but-"

"Daddy said I'm not supposed to bother you. So if I'm not bothering you…"

"That," a voice thunders from the doorway, "Is not at all what I meant." The man from the night before has appeared in the doorway, and he walks over and scoops up his daughter, bopping her on the nose. "And you damn well know it."

"That's Mommy's word," Morgan says immediately, grinning up at him with borderline adoration that makes even Peter feel warm.

"Gah." Tony ignores her statement and looks down at Peter. By some unspoken agreement, any tension from the night before is carefully not acknowledged with the little girl in the room. "How are you feeling, kid?"

Peter considers carefully before answering, weighing not only what the young girl will hear with the truth but with the sudden pang of desperation that reminds him that he's not here by choice. "Much better, sir," he lies, almost smoothly.

Tony's eyes narrow, and Peter shrinks back a little under the weight of his stare. "Good," he finally says, clearly not believing him but not going to press in front of Morgan. "Can I get you to eat something this morning, then?"

Peter has to will his stomach not to growl at the suggestion. He's hungry, certainly, but he knows that he will not be able to eat much, and besides… "No thank you, sir. I really should be going-"

A hand clamps on his shoulder, keeping him from getting more than slightly upright, and pushes him back down. "Don't be ridiculous, kid," Tony says, eyes narrowed, but his voice forcibly lighthearted. "You're in no shape to go anywhere. If you're not that hungry, I'll just bring you something small, yeah?" He holds his eyes, daring him to argue.

Peter sighs and nods. He was hoping he wouldn't want to say anything in front of the little girl and thus would have had to let him get up, but he was wrong. Really, there was nowhere to go anyway, and his ankle was still chained, but it was worth taking the opportunity to call his bluff. Even if he wasn't bluffing. Clearly. "Yeah, that sounds good," he murmurs, suddenly feeling too exhausted to hide his disappointment.

He closes his eyes as they leave the room, sighing. Once he gets some food and water down and is able to rest again, he knows his enhanced strength and healing factor will start kicking back in. When that happens, it'll be easy for him to break the chain. It's some consolation, if not much, but it'll do for now. Something to hold on to.

He's still laying there with his eyes closed when he hears footsteps approaching his room again. The door cracks open, and the smell of food hits him so hard he inhales a sharp breath, unable to help himself. He cracks his eyes open and sees Tony closing - and locking, he notes, his heart skipping a beat at the sight - the door behind him. "You know, using Morgan's presence as a way to protect yourself while calling my bluff wasn't exactly what I expected you to do," he admits, walking over and setting the try down on the nightstand. "Still, it's undoubtedly clever."

Peter flushes, feeling the hidden admonishment in the words. A gentle '_you're the hero, how dare you'_ rebuke. As if he knows what it's like to be a hero. "Worth a try," he whispers, avoiding the elder man's eyes.

"I suppose so." Tony settles on the edge of the bed next to him. Peter just flinches, unable to move away from him between the chain and his injuries. The chain still rattles when he jerks, though, and he suddenly remembers it. Tony hears it too, and guilt flashed across his face for a split second. "That's… I'm sorry, about that."

"You wouldn't have to be sorry if you'd take it off," Peter offers quietly, but Tony shakes his head.

"Not today, kiddo. Not when we both know the second you deem yourself well enough you'll try to take off. I'm not waiting for it to happen and watching you hurt yourself before doing something to prevent it." Tony sighs, glancing towards the foot of the bed where the chain lies hidden under the blankets. He suddenly looks vaguely uncomfortable. "Did you…"

"Show Morgan? No." Peter looks away. "I didn't say anything to her. She asked about my injuries and if I minded her seeing my face. I gave her all the PG answers."

"Well, I appreciate that. It wouldn't have made a difference, but it saves me the explaining." Tony sighs, then looks back down at him. "Come on, lets get some food in you." He slips his arms under his back and eases Peter up, readjusting his pillows so that he's propped into a mostly-upright position, and then settling him back down. Peter doesn't resist, too exhausted and hungry to even want to.

"There we go." Tony grabs the tray he brought in and carefully settled it over Peter's lap. "Now please eat. And before you ask something so idiotic, no, I wouldn't poison the same food my family is eating to get to you, and at any rate, I didn't cook it this morning, so you're doubly safe."

Peter flushes again. Of course he'd had the thought, but he wasn't going to say it outloud. It did seem pretty illogical in the situation. "I…" He looks over the tray, which is loaded with food, and exhales a long breath. "I am hungry, but I don't know how much I can eat."

"Because you were on a drip, or because you haven't eaten large portions in two weeks?"

Peter chokes on his first bite of eggs, looking up at him. "What?"

Tony looks at him with a mixture of sadness and worry. "Kid, I have my resources, alright? I know you were abducted. I don't know who did it, yet, but I'm working on it. So which is it?"

"I, uh…." He freezes for a moment, slowly forking another bite of scrambled eggs. "I mean, both, technically, since a drip isn't really a large portion size." There's no point in denying it.

Tony nods, taking his arm that he's not eating with - correctly guessing he's favoring the uninjured one - and turning it over. He hisses through his teeth at the dark mark where the tube was shoved into his arm, running his calloused fingers over it gently. "Those suck," he murmurs, mostly to himself, then releases his arm. "Better than an NG, though."

"I've had those before too," Peter says absently, his attention more focused on the food now. He's starving, but he forces himself to take small bites, to stop every few and make sure he's not going to hurl it up. He would prefer to keep everything down. "I like the IV version better, for sure."

"IV is better," Tony agrees, watching him with a hint of satisfaction and again, that odd sadness. He allows him to finish eating in relative silence, only doing anything more than observing when Peter tries to lift the cup off the tray to take a drink and his shaky hands get the better of him. Tony lifts it for him and helps him take slow drinks.

When he's ate as much as he thinks he can, Tony takes the tray off of his lap and sets it aside. "Alright. Lets get you to the bathroom so you can take care of yourself and get cleaned up, hm?" He peels the blankets off of him.

Peter blinks in surprise, but before he can say anything, Tony is moving around the bed, grabbing the ankle with the chain around it and pulling it into his lap. At his touch, the chain simply seems to melt apart. A flash of silver travels up the man's arm and disappears.

Peter's jaw drops open. "What the hell was that?"

"Nanotech," Tony answers absently, shrugging his shoulders. He stands and turns, looking over him for a moment and seeming to debate internally before leaning down and scooping Peter up before the younger man can protest.

"What-" Peter starts to squirm, but the arms around him tighten, restricting but somehow still so carefully gentle as so not to hurt him.

"I just told you where I'm taking you, kid, so calm down. You can't walk on that leg," Tony tells him, walking over and opening the door to the adjoining bathroom. "Now I cleaned you up the best I could last night, but these wounds need cleaned everyday anyway. So I'll run you some water and get the supplies while you do what you need to, then we'll get you cleaned up, alright?"

Peter frowns. He isn't too fond of the ideas he's getting from this conversation - the fact that he's probably going to watch over him as he bathes, or worse, try to help, which they both know he's probably going to need and not going to want to accept - but he can't deny being clean sounds amazing, and he's not going to be able to rewrap his wounds, either. He still wants to see the extent of the damage for himself, too. "Fine," he finally murmurs, looking away.

He feels the weight of Tony's stare on him for a long minute and wonders if he's going to say something. But he doesn't, only a soft, "Good. I'll be right back, then," and then he disappears out the door, leaving Peter alone with a short window of opportunity and little desire or ability to do anything about it.

He considers making a break for it, briefly, but knows instinctively that's a bad idea. Honestly, this whole scenario is just so bizarre, even for him. He fleetingly thinks that a doting captor is almost worse than a crazy one, then sighs, pushing the thought away. It's only a matter of time before the man shows his hand. He may as well take advantage while he can.

So he doesn't move, but simply turns to the massive tub a few feet away and carefully starts peeling off his shirt.


	4. Chapter 4

As soon as he closes the bathroom door behind him, Tony stops, taking a deep breath to steel himself again and forcing himself to relieve some of the tension in his shoulders.

He'd been tense since Jarvis had alerted him that Morgan had been granted entrance to the kid's room. He isn't entirely sure why he was so on edge about it, if he's being honest; neither of them were in positions to hurt the other, unless Morgan tried to climb up on the bed with him for some reason - not that he really thought either of them would try. Still, finding them both intact and chatting amicably had been a relief. It was actually nice to see Peter so relaxed; in comparison with how he had acted around Morgan, it was clear how tense (and afraid, even if he doubts Peter would admit that) he was around Tony.

Of course both of those reappeared as soon as he entered the room, but that wasn't the point.

Not that he'd actually entertained the thought that he was desperate enough to do anything, but Tony was glad Peter hadn't tried to say or do anything stupid with Morgan. He'd tried testing the waters and immediately backed off when he saw that wasn't going to get him anywhere, rather than start something with her in the room. And to an extent, he was glad she hadn't seen the cuff he'd put on the younger male's ankle, either; he wouldn't have taken it off if she had, but he knew she would have been upset by it.

In truth, Tony was upset by having to do it. But deciding that it was a necessary evil was one of the decisions he'd made this morning; he isn't going to have him try to take off when he's still injured. Tony has every intent of nursing the kid back to full health, whether he likes it or not. And of course it doesn't have anything to do with his guilt or his need to know what Peter has gone through on behalf of the Avengers, or anything he knows about the people looking for him; but if he manages to make some of that up to him, well, that's just an added bonus.

He hasn't told Peter who he is yet, and clearly, Peter hasn't figured it out on his own, despite seeing him use the gauntlets and his nanotech. He can't say he's too surprised; it's been almost six years since he himself made a public appearance. He's gone into hiding, in a way. He would daresay he's still a recognizable figure, but he doesn't go out to where he could be recognized very often anymore. He thought long and hard about it this morning, but he's decided he's not going to tell him - at least, not right away. Mainly because of what Peter has apparently already gone through on their behalves, and the adverse reaction he'd probably have to realizing. The kid is clearly already terrified of him now; the last thing he needs to add to that mix is him knowing who he is and thinking that he has some alternative purpose for helping him. Which he probably already thinks, Tony knows, but with this new information, the kid would probably think he's found a legitimate reason to worry. No, he wants to try to gain at least a tiny bit of trust between them first.

It doesn't look like it'll be impossible. Difficult, certainly, but not impossible. He's got Morgan on his side, for one thing. He's yet to meet anyone who is immune to her precious charms, and if the bit of interaction he heard before bursting in earlier is any indication, Peter is no exception. That in itself will open up some avenues. Not that he would ask Morgan to do or say anything to Peter on his behalf, but… well, clearly, she's well taken care of, and he's been told it's obvious she adores him. Hopefully some of that will be enough to let Peter rest easier around him.

Besides, he intends to take care of him personally, and he likes to think he's not too scary after the first couple of meetings (unless he's trying to be, of course, but he won't be). Eventually he'll have to realize that Tony really wants nothing more than to help him.

The only problem he's going to run into, Tony muses as he hunts down the supplies to fix the kid up again, is that they were only supposed to be staying here for a day or two, while Pepper has her meetings. Peter is going to take weeks to recover. And while he may have put up with Tony carrying him to the bathroom, if he tries to, say, load him into the car and drag him out to their lakeside home, he knows the young vigilante would absolutely freak. That really would be kidnapping him. And unless he goes separately from Pepper and Morgan, they'll be witness to whatever happens.

Not to mention the fact that Pepper is mostly _certainly_ still highly recognizable, and if he sees her, he'll probably put things together in an instant.

He can deal with that later. Pepper has meetings today and tomorrow. He'll just call Happy to help him keep an eye on Morgan and try to see what kind of progress he can make with Peter. By tomorrow night he'll have to make some kind of decision about who's going where - if they're all staying, if only he stays, or if he's willing to drag a possibly kicking and screaming superhero out of the city with them - but not today.

Today he just goes in search of the first aid kit and heads back to the room where he left the younger hero, intent on helping however he can.

When he re-enters the bathroom, Peter is carefully balanced on the edge of the tub, steadying himself with his unbroken arm and leg - he only has one of each, in the midst of all those injuries - and is checking the temperature of the water. He's somehow managed to get from the toilet to the bathtub across the room, and he's gotten the shirt and sweatpants Tony had dressed him in last night off on his own.

Tony has to admit, he's impressed with the kid's pain tolerance, and his reckless tendency to continue pushing boundaries. What he's not impressed with is how skinny he is - he'd noticed he was small, before, but now that he's not covered in blood and he can get a better look at him, he can see the prominent set of his ribs, the fact that he's not just in-shape skinny, but unhealthy-skinny. And with all the bandages he's swaddled in, he looks even smaller.

He lets out an unhappy hum under his breath without even consciously realizing it. Peter doesn't look up, but he shifts slightly in a way that lets Tony know he definitely heard it and asks, "What?"

"Nothing," he says quickly, irritated at himself for his lack of control. He steps closer. "Do you want anything to put in there? You're not allergic to any type of soap or anything, right?"

"Not that I know of," Peter says after a moment's hesitation, and Tony instinctively knows that it's true, if only because if he actually was allergic to something he probably would have refused to tell him what or just flat out refused to answer. "But I'm good."

"If you insist." Tony steps closer, waiting until he turns to face him to touch him so he doesn't startle him. He gently grabs one of his arms, starting to unwrap the bandages there, and continuing to do so until he's pulled all of the bandages off.

Peter watches silently, and gives no hint of a reaction except for an occasional wince, until he's pulled off the last one and is throwing it in the trash can. Then he says so quietly Tony almost isn't sure he's supposed to hear, "Thanks. You can go now."

Tony blinks, his brow furrowing as he looks down at the slight kid in front of him. "What?"

Peter shrugs, turning and carefully draping his legs over the tub. "I said you can go. I can do this myself."

He has the insane thought of '_you're dismissing me_?' and then realizes that Peter would have no idea why that scenario is so backwards even if he says it outloud. He shakes the thoughts away, putting his hand on his shoulder. "Peter… I know it's uncomfortable for you, but I really think-"

"_Don't_ touch me." Peter jerks away almost violently, and Tony dimly realizes after the fact that the younger male had immediately gone from stiff to shaking under his touch. _Shit_. _He's got trauma too, you moron_.

"I'm… sorry," Tony manages, trying unsuccessfully to keep the thoughts at bay of exactly what kind of trauma would have made Peter react to his touch like that. "I'll… go, then, but I'll be just outside, okay? Holler for me when you're decent, and we'll get you wrapped back up." Then he practically flees the room, without waiting for a response.

He leaves the door cracked just a tiny bit behind him, then settles down to wait.

Peter watches him go and doesn't say anything. Some part of him feels bad for snapping at Tony, but he just couldn't help it, the same way he could hardly control his body's reaction to it. He's shaking, and he's honestly not sure why, what he even triggered, but it's there and it's not going away.

He sighs, slipping off his boxers and easing himself into the water, slowly, groaning a bit at the pain. He looks about as bad as he feels, which is to say, like absolute shit. There's not a single part of him that doesn't hurt, and all he wants to do is sit and soak in the water for as long as possible. Maybe he'll get lucky, fall asleep with the water running and drown. He's starting to think he'd much prefer that to any of the other inevitable unhappy endings coming to him. Besides, there's no one left who'd care if he's gone anyway. He had one family member and two friends left by the time the Snap had happened. And of course all three of them had disappeared. Right in front of his eyes, to boot. But wasn't that just his luck?

He can't remember the last time he'd actually been able to soak in a bath of water - at least, a time when it wasn't being used as a torture device. This time, between his injuries and his exhaustion and the fact it is not an uncomfortable temperature nor is anyone wrecking havoc on his body or his mind while he lays there, he actually does doze off. Scrubbing himself clean is exhausting, not to mention difficult in his scenario. One moment he's rinsing off his mangled leg with painstaking care, and the next he's out.

He wakes up a bit later to the feeling of weightlessness, and realizes he's being carried. He startles when he realizes it, but the arms around him tighten in response. "Easy Pete. It's just me."

It's probably supposed to be soothing, and coming out of the grips of the memories and fears that paralyze him as he sleeps, it kind of is, even if he doesn't know if he should trust Tony yet. He settles for long enough to be taken the rest of the way to bed, where Tony carefully lays him down.

He's clutching handfuls of Tony's shirt like a little kid, and he doesn't even realize it until the elder man is trying to set him down and meets the resistance. To his utter embarrassment, he's stuck to him again. So not only is he wet and naked, wearing nothing but a towel after he failed to even take a bath on his own, he's now stuck to his… whatever the hell this guy is to him now, and he's not in control enough of himself to be able to make his stickiness go away. And he's so tired that he can't even say or do anything about it.

Tony seems to sense his distress. "Easy, kiddo. It's alright. I'll stay, if that's what you want." He carefully settles beside him on the bed, and before Peter fully realizes what's happening he's tucked snugly into Tony's side, the blankets pulled up around them, and suddenly he's asleep against the elder man's side.

Tony is still there when he startles awake some time later, soothing him before he'd even fully aware of what's going on.

"Easy, it's all right… just lay back down, breathe, Peter… it was just a dream…"

He was dreaming? News to him. He must have been freaking out in his sleep again. "I'm- sorry," he manages to get out.

"Don't be." Tony runs a hand down his arm, and Peter unthinkingly snuggles closer to his side. It's been such a long time since anyone held him like this. Platonically, lovingly, as if his comfort is the only thing that matters. He dimly registers Tony's other hand dragging through his hair and resists the urge to purr like a cat. "You feeling okay now? More awake?"

"Yeah…" Suddenly it returns to him why Tony is still there and he flushes furiously, jerking back as if burned. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-" he tries to pull his hands away and realizes they're still stuck, albeit in slightly different places than before.

"Hey hey. It's alright. You can't control it all the time." Tony puts a hand on his shoulder to stop him, and he stills, blinking hard against the sudden burning behind his eyes. As if he needs to be more indebted to this man. But Tony notices even that, and his expression softens even more. "Peter, calm down." He taps his chin up gently. "I'm not mad, and you didn't do anything wrong. You're healing, and those freaky spider powers of yours seem to be making it go quicker at the cost of your energy. You need all the rest you can get." He pauses, smiling a little. "Anyway, you're far from the first person that's ever used me as a pillow, kiddo. I'm used to it."

Peter lowers his eyes when Tony releases his chin, unable to take the earnesty in them when he doesn't know if it's real or fake, and either way no one has given a shit about him in so long that it's honestly painful to see. He takes a breath and mutters a small, "Thanks."

"Of course." Tony ruffles his hair with such care that Peter wants to flinch away from the obvious affection. "Now, let's get you dressed in something besides a towel. You think you can let me up now?"

Peter bits his lip, not answering in favor of concentrating hard. Slowly but surely, his hands come unstuck from where they are resting on Tony's torso.

"Perfect." He gets up carefully, so he doesn't jostle him, then walks over to the dresser and grabs a stack of clothes Peter hadn't noticed earlier. "I took the liberty of getting some clothes brought up for you, since you obviously didn't have anything besides the suit with you and that is not even going to be an option until repairs are done - _if_ they even can be, as unrecognizable as it is. They might not fit just right, but it's better than nothing." He stops at the edge of the bed, setting the clothes down beside him and frowning slightly at the look that must have crossed Peter's face. "What?"

"You… think you can repair my suit?" Peter doesn't dare let the hope show on his face. If he's willing to repair it, that means he gets it back, right? Which means he has to be intending to actually let him go when he gets better. _Or that he just wants it to be up and running again to get whatever information out of it is possible_, a pessimistic side of him adds, but he pushes the thought away in favor of another slightly less pessimistic but equally concerning one. "Wait. What _do_ you know about my suit? You never told me."

Tony tenses, then visibly forces himself to relax. Peter internally curses at himself. That's not the reaction of someone who's not guilty of something or the other. And just when he was starting to think it might be worth it to trust him…

"It's not what you think," Tony says quickly, apparently seeing the expression on Peter's face. "I just… happen to know the person who made your suit. So I know a bit about it, and yeah, we might be able to fix it. But I can't promise anything, Peter. It was really messed up."

That's because _he_ had gotten really messed up, but neither of them wants to say that. Apparently the unspoken words hang heavy in the room, though, because Tony suddenly continues, "Speaking of which, kid, I would really like to get you seen by a professional. I think your leg and your arm need to be reset and casted at least temporarily, and I would really like to see some actual scans being done to make sure there's nothing on the inside I missed. Is that okay with you?"

Peter hesitates. He doesn't like the idea of it. He hasn't been seen by a doctor in years - partially because he can't afford to be, partially because he knows since the bite he's not all human and he doesn't know to what extent that is, and he's not all about being turned into a human science experiment. "I… haven't been seen by a doctor since…" he hesitates. He's honestly not sure of the exact amount of time, but it goes back further than even the Snap, into his early teens, probably.

Tony's eyes widen a bit at the realization. "Oh. Longer than the Snap?" Peter nods. "How long, then, exactly?"

"Um…" He looks down, picking some imaginary fuzz off the blanket. "Seven or so years, at least."

"Sev- Jesus, kid. That's not healthy, even if you weren't getting injured every time you step on the street." Tony looks stricken.

"Yeah, well, excuse me for not wanting to become a human science experiment!" Peter retorts unthinkingly, then blanches.

Tony stares at him, then shakes his head. "That's… reasonable, I suppose. I'm sorry. But you're going to see one this time, kid. I know a guy, and you wouldn't be the first mutant he's dealt with. I promise you, no science experiments, no scary stuff, and he knows how to be discreet. Does that sound fair?"

Peter slumps back against the pillows, closing his eyes. "What does it matter? We both know you're going to make me whether I say no or not."

He hears Tony let out a pained sigh. "It's for your own good, kid. Just… don't make this harder than it needs to be." A pause, then the bed moves as he settles beside him again. "Come on. Let's get you bandaged and dressed, then we'll get some food into you and you can rest again for a while."

Peter says nothing as gentle hands take his arm again, starting the process of bandaging his wounds again. Peter lays still and quiet except for when otherwise instructed as Tony wraps him up and helps him into some fresh clothes. Despite not doing much - or perhaps because he hasn't - Peter is trying not to fall asleep again by the time he's finished.

Tony gets his shirt on and lays him back against the pillows, seeming to realize then that he's battling unconsciousness again. Whatever he was going to say is lost as he just closes his mouth and smiles a little, pulling the blankets over him again. "Get some rest, Peter." He tucks him in and gets up, and Peter's eyes fall closed before he's even out of sight.

His mind is a few minutes behind his body, though, even though that's also fading fast. Still, he's awake for just long enough to hear the faint dial tone of a phone and Tony's whisper of, "Bruce, I need a favor," and then the world is black again.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! So this chapter stops in an odd place, because otherwise it would have been massive. The good news is, stuff is getting real this chapter and next! All the drama and the feels. So yeah, thanks so much for all of the continued support, and I hope you enjoy!

Tony doesn't know how to feel about how the last hour and some had turned out.

On one hand - kid fell asleep in the tub; that was bad, and he again felt bad for having to see him so exposed when he was still clearly uncomfortable around him. On the other, he'd been comfortable enough to fall asleep, and had not only _not _panicked but had fallen back asleep against him when he carried him out. And when he wasn't conscious, the walls he'd clearly been so desperately trying to keep up had come down, leaving the kid clinging to him with spider powers, seeking human comfort that he clearly hadn't had in way too long. And despite his attitude when he was awake, Tony knows that that wouldn't have happened if Peter was actually still as uncomfortable as he was trying to be.

And while he was clearly trying to keep that distance there, even that had started to slip a bit when Peter had woken up against him. He still sounded resigned to most of what Tony had said, still resistant to most of the decisions he made, but not enough that he's actively fighting anymore, which implies at least a beginning level of trust. He can work with that. Not to mention the fact that he didn't even want Tony to help him sit up when he'd first woken up, and today he'd made no protest to basically cuddling with him while he was awake. He'd tried to unstick his hands, but he hadn't actually tried to pull away. If anything, he's certain he felt him lean a little more into him. _That _was definitely progress.

Speaking of his decisions… He almost doesn't realize the phone had picked up in his ear until he heard a voice say, "Tony?"

"Bruce. I need a favor," Tony says as he steps out and pulls the door closed behind him.

"What kind of favor?" Bruce asks, suspicion clear in his tone. Tony rolls his eyes.

"Don't sound so suspicious. It's not what you think. I need your medical expertise, actually."

He can almost hear the way Bruce's eyebrows shoot up in surprise through the phone. "Medical? Is someone hurt? Did Morgan break her leg or something? Because I know how scary it is, but there's not much I can do about the little things, Tony, and it's not good for you to-"

"It's not Morgan," Tony interrupts. He wants to be irritated that they think he's so irrationally overprotective, but, well… isn't that exactly what he's doing, being irrationally controlling and overprotective of someone who, really, he has no claim on? "It's not me or Pepper, either, actually," he continues, forcing the thought away. "It's… well, it's a bit complicated. It's a pretty special patient. He's not… human, exactly. I mean, human, but not completely," he adds, before Bruce can get the wrong idea.

"O...kay," Bruce stretches out, clearly confused. "Who and what are we talking about, exactly?"

Tony sighs, already anticipating the response. "Spider-Man," he admits reluctantly. "And he's...actually a mutant, although to what extent I honestly don't know."

Bruce is groaning before he's even finished speaking. "God, Tony. You really… we _agreed_-"

"It wasn't- he crashed through the wall of the tower! What was I supposed to do, let him bleed out on the floor? Besides, I- we owe him, Bruce. Big time. Not only has he been covering our asses for the past six years, but he's been tortured. Multiple times, if what he's accidentally revealed is anything to go by. Including by people looking for _us_." He hears Bruce's breath catch, but presses on. "And I-" he hadn't voiced this suspicion aloud, hadn't dared let himself think to hard about the implications of it, but… "I don't think he has anyone, Bruce. Because of the whole hero gig or the snap or what, I don't know, but…"

"How can you tell?" Bruce's voice was quiet.

"I don't know. I just can," he answered honestly. Maybe it was the utter lack of trust, or the desperation that hinted he had no hope at all, or the way he clearly was afraid of being close to him but then seemed to cling to it when it was forced on him. Maybe it was just parental instinct. But he is sure. Besides, surely if he had someone, he would have been even hinted at the possibility of wanting to talk to someone outside the tower by now; if he was close with anyone, they should have been his first thought when he woke up and found out what had happened, right?

Bruce exhales a long breath, and Tony holds his as he waits for an answer and is greeted by a minute of silence. "I can be there in an hour or so," he says finally. "But I can't make any promises of what I'll be able to do. What are you even _wanting_ me to do?"

He lets out the breath. "He's pretty banged up. I need a full rundown of injuries, broken bones, all that, and a timeline for his recovery would be great."

A pause. "If he's really a mutant, then I'll need to do some tests. Otherwise I can't promise accurate results. Depending on the extent of his mutations, I still probably can't."

"Alright." He winces a little, knowing that this will likely be another argument, but says nothing. "We'll talk more when you get here, then. Thanks, Bruce."

"Of course. I'll see you soon." He hangs up.

Tony disconnects on his end as well and pockets the phone, feeling a bit lighter. He turns the corner to see Morgan sitting at the table with Happy, chatting away and coloring in a picture book, a barely touched sandwich and bowl of what was presumably soup sitting beside her. Happy nods to him as he enters and gets up, wandering away and pulling out his phone to make a call.

She sees the movement and immediately looks up at him and grins. "Daddy! How's Peter?"

"Spider-Man," Tony corrects, kissing the top of her head as he passes. "You can't go around yelling out his name, or he can't be Spider-Man anymore, remember?"

Morgan makes a face, turning back to her picture and picking another crayon. "Yeah, but… it's just us, so I can call him Peter!"

Tony sighs, but he's suppressing a smile. "Yes, I suppose so. Now eat your food." He plucks the crayon from her hand.

The little girl sticks her tongue out at him but pulls her food towards her, and giggles when he sticks out his tongue back before taking a big bite of her sandwich. Tony moves to the counter and grabs a bowl, getting some soup for himself and sitting down at the table.

"Daddy?" Morgan pipes up again, looking at him over her sandwich.

"Hm?" He's stirring his soup absentmindedly.

"How long is Peter going to be here?" She looks at him with wide brown eyes.

"Until he's better."

"How long will that be?"

"Bruce is coming today to help us figure that out." He takes a bite of soup.

Morgan straightens immediately, eyes bright. "Uncle Bruce is coming?"

"Yes. He'll be here in a few hours." Tony gets up to get a drink.

"Is he staying?" Morgan asks hopefully.

"That'll depend on how much care Peter needs and how long we decide to stay."

"How long are we staying?"

"I don't know, Morgan. It'll depend. Just eat for now, okay?" He fills a glass of water and sits down again.

She huffs but complies, and they eat in silence for a whole five minutes before she blurts, "When can I visit him again?"

Tony sighs, running a hand through his hair. "He's hurt, Morgan. He needs rest. And when I left he was asleep, so it might be a little bit. Besides," he points to her food again, "Little girls who don't eat aren't allowed to go visit their heroes. So you better get to it."

Morgan pouts for half a second, and when that gets her nothing, she takes a big bite of her food and throws him a pointed look.

"Thank you." Tony gives her a smile back, taking a bite of his own as if to say '_see, I'm doing it too_.'

They finish quickly after that. As soon as Morgan's bowl is clean, she immediately turns to him and says, "_Now_ can I see him again?"

Tony sighs a little, taking their dishes and setting them in the sink. He almost feels bad for giving in, but he also remembers how at ease Peter appeared around her before and thinks he won't mind, even if she does wake him up. "I… oh, alright. A quick visit. But he was sleeping, so we have to be quiet, okay? We don't want to wake him. He needs rest."

"I know! I won't, I promise!" Morgan is already sprinting down the hall, stopping just outside the door and waiting on him to catch up. "Come on, Daddy!" she stage-whispers.

"I'm coming." He reaches her in a few strides, and reminds her to be quiet with a finger to his lips before cracking open the door almost silently.

Morgan pads inside, her steps even carefully quiet as she approaches her hero. She steps up beside his bed, reaching out a small hand and laying it on top of his, where it's resting lightly on the blankets over his stomach.

Tony watches from the doorway, a small smile growing on his face. He's glad Friday is watching, because he'll want the stills of it later.

Then Morgan gasps from across the room.

Peter is awake before they enter, honestly.

He doesn't know what startles him into awareness, but he does immediately pick up on the two sets of footsteps right outside his door when he focuses on it. One set stops, and the other is light and nearly silent as it approaches. Too light to be an adult, but, acutely aware of the second presence that he's fairly sure is an adult, he doesn't move, keeping his breathing deep and even.

Then a small hand is draped over his, and before he can think better of it, his fingers are twitching in response, curling around the young girl's hand.

She gasps in delight, and he lets his eyes flutter slowly open. His gaze fixes on her first, then shifts to the shadow lingering near the doorway until she speaks and draws his attention back to her. "Petey! How are you feeling?"

Despite himself, Peter smiles. No one has ever called him that before, but he finds he doesn't mind. "I'm good, Morgan," he says softly. "Just tired."

Her face changes instantly. "Did I wake you?"

"No, you didn't," he assures. "I was just resting here. I can't really move, so there's not much else I can do. I'm actually glad to see you. Gives me something to do." He isn't actually lying; he was awake before she touched him, and really, there isn't much else he can do. Aside from thinking, and he's not really wanting to do that right now. He doesn't like the thoughts that take him every time he does.

She brightens, grinning. "I'll come talk to you as much as you want. And guess what! You'll be able to talk to new people soon! Uncle Bruce is coming to visit and fix you up, and then you'll be good as new!"

Peter files the name away as he smiles back at her. "Yeah? You think so?"

"Yeah! Uncle Bruce is the best! And he's helped fix all kinds of things, so I know he can fix you!" She squeezes his hand. "At least, he can when he's not big and green, but-"

"That's enough." Tony pushes off the door and walks inside, kneeling by the little girl.

"Big and green?" Peter repeats, right on the heels of Tony's words. He looks at the elder man, then back at the little girl, who is nodding frantically despite her father's words.

"Yeah! He's the Hulk! Well, he is sometimes, but usually he's just Uncle Bruce-"

Tony sees the way the kid's face changes instantly. He goes from amused and affectionate to confused and afraid in the span of less than a second, as soon as Morgan speaks.

"That's enough," he blurts, before he can think better of it. But the kid asks, he always does, and Morgan keeps going, blissfully unaware of exactly what she's about to do.

"Yeah! He's the Hulk! Well, he is sometimes, but usually he's just Uncle Bruce-"

Emotions flash over Peter's face too quick for Tony to process before he shutters them off again. Tony takes Morgan's arm. "Morgan, that's enough."

She stops, as if suddenly realizing the tension in the room. Her eyes are big and brown, wide as saucers, but he can't explain, not now. Not when he can't say anything else in front of the kid, not when-

Peter is sitting up with some difficulty, hands braced heavily against the nightstand but managing to get and stay upright. "You lied to me." The words are quiet but still every bit accusing.

"I didn't lie," Tony counters. "He _is_ qualified. And he has dealt with people like you before. He-"

"And you just conveniently didn't tell me who he was? I told you about-" he stops, looking like he's swallowing down words with effort, his eyes flicking from him to Morgan for just a second before back to Tony. "How many of them did you tell?"

He's trying so, _so_ hard to stay calm, to bite back words for Morgan, and it hurts something inside of Tony. "Kid, I _didn't-_"

"You _obviously_ did. Did you even actually want to help me? Or was this about bounty the whole time? It just so happened that when I had information that could be prudent to people with more money you decided to give me to them instead? Is he even actually coming to look at me, or because he's the only one you thought could contain me?" The words are just spilling out now. Every word hurts, not only Tony, but he can also see the way these realizations are affecting Peter. He looks so small, sad, hurt, _betrayed_, and Tony has to swallow hard against his rising emotion to answer.

"I didn't tell any of the Avengers, kid. Bruce is a friend. He's just coming to look at you, I _swear_." Tony makes to step up to him, but he flinched visibly, and that draws him up short. Then Morgan is there, stepping up to him and taking the hand he's not using to brace himself up, eyes wide and earnest.

"Petey… why are you afraid of the Avengers?" she asks with quiet innocence that only a six year old could pull off. "They're good. They help people."

Peter takes a shuddering breath, forcing his eyes down from Tony to Morgan and giving her a bitter smile. "Oh, Morgan. You're just too young to understand." He squeezes her hand gently. "The Avengers haven't helped anyone in years. And they certainly haven't helped me while I was out there fighting their battles for them."

Morgan looks so confused. "But… the Avengers are broken up, but they've never hurt anyone...right?" She looks back at Tony, but he's frozen, hurt by the kid's words, the truth of them. He's right, and it kills him.

"They're not helping anyone either, Mo," Peter says, shoulders curved forward as he runs his fingers through his hair, and Tony knows every motion has to hurt. "More people are getting hurt now than ever because of their mess. And they've done nothing to clean it up. Actually-" his face scrunches up in irritation, "They've been quite vocal about their distaste for some of us cleaning up their messes. As if just because we want our identities to be a secret or because we have to use slightly different methods we're little better than criminals ourselves."

Tony knows what he's talking about, and it hurts all the more because he'd never meant Spider-Man when he'd said some of the things he had, and the media had never been meant to hear them and construe them in they way they had, either. What had been publicized of what he said had not nearly been the whole of it. And he couldn't really be held responsible for what the others said or did… right? It had been years!

Morgan only looks more confused. She looks at Tony, searching his face for answers. "But… Daddy _has_been helping you. And… you didn't say Spider-Man was bad, did you?" She looks back at Peter. "They would have helped you if they'd known you needed it! Daddy does support you! That's why he made your suit! Right?" She looks back at Tony, oblivious to Peter tensing under her, the shock going through him right then. "You would have helped him, right?"

_I didn't. I kept lists of his injuries and watched from afar and gave him the suit to help assuage my own guilt but I didn't. I didn't help_. Tony closes his eyes, running his hand down his face. "Morgan- honey, it's complicated-"

Morgan looks more hurt now than Peter does. Her whole demeanor morphs instantly, and she stares at him, aghast. "But… but you're Iron Man! You're supposed to be a hero! And you just… you just…"

Peter goes rigid, but Morgan doesn't notice. She only has eyes for her father. She's visibly shaken, staring at him with wide, wet eyes.

Tony sees the change in both of them and closes his eyes for a minute, trying to steady himself. When he opens them again, Peter is moving, trying to shove himself up, and Tony only has a second to react. "Friday, get Happy in here for Morgan," he orders, then he's across the room, trying to get to Peter before he hurts himself. He curses himself for not putting the cuff back on before he left earlier.

Happy is in there an instant. Thankfully, he sees the situation and just scoops up Morgan and goes out, closing the door behind him. Tony struggles to get a grip on Peter, who seems to be not entirely conscious of his actions, just desperate to escape.

Tony knows what he's going to have to do, and he doesn't like it. He tries desperately to get through to him instead. "_Peter_. Peter, hey, kid, c'mon-“


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Sorry this is shorter than most, but again, its the second half of the other chapter, and tacking it on to the last or next would make them massive! And I'm sorry updates are coming so slowly an unpredictably; I just can't keep a schedule right now. Still, next should be ready soon, and I love you guys so much! Hope you enjoy!

"But you're Iron Man!"

Of all the things Peter was expecting to hear Morgan say, that wasn't one of them. But as soon as he hears it, something clicks.

_Daddy always gets hurt when he does hero stuff too._

Morgan had said that to him. And Tony, when he had attempted to use Morgan as a sort of barrier between them, the way he'd scolded him, the way Peter had thought he sounded like he had some idea of what it meant to be someone in a position of power-

_I just… happen to know the person who made your suit_.

Of course he did; it was _him_.

Lies; it was all lies. Lies and deception, exactly what he'd come to expect, and it hurt all the more now because he _hadn't_. Peter had started to _trust_ him, had honestly and truly _wanted_ to, had started to let his guard down-

He's not conscious of the decision, but he suddenly decides he's done, he's leaving, and he throws the blankets the rest of the way off himself and is struggling to his feet. Tony is instantly in front of him, and he knows they've been talking around him this whole time, but he's not hearing it through the blood pounding in his head. He's on his feet, and _fuck_, does that hurt, the bones have healed wrong, he can feel it, but his need to move overrules the pain-

Tony is reaching for him, grabbing at him and talking and Peter doesn't think, just shoves him hard away and stumbles forward. The elder man falls back onto the bed with a sharp exhalation of air. Peter glances around, and quickly decides to go for the window over the door. He knows somebody went that way with Morgan, and he doesn't want to cause her any more turmoil, nor does he want to have to hurt anyone. Plus, window is closer.

This plan is all well and good except for the fact that he doesn't make it there. His leg twists and gives out, just a few feet from the wall, and the pain is so strong that for a minute his vision whites out.

When his grip on reality returns, Tony is back in front of him, and he's on his knees, his wrists gripped tightly in a cold, metal grasp.

_Do you have any idea how long it's been since I've had to break these out?_

Gauntlets. Metal gauntlets. _Iron Man's gauntlets_. How did he not notice before? Had he really been so out of it the first time that he didn't realize? They were even his signature red for God's sake!

"Peter!" Tony's voice comes into focus around the same time his face does. "Come on, kid, focus up. Please."

Peter squeezes his eyes shut, unable to look at him. _Tony_. He'd even told him his name was Tony, and he hadn't put the pieces together. This was his own fault.

_I don't want to hurt you-_

His fault for believing that. How could he be so stupid?

Yet his heart wasn't really caught up with his head.

"You promised," Peter chokes. It's not at all what he intends to say, but it's what comes out, surprising them both. "You said you didn't want to hurt me. You lied- about so _much-_"

"I know. Peter, I'm sorry, okay? I knew you wouldn't trust me if I told you, not with everything you've been through because of me. You would have been terrified - you're terrified _now_ \- and rightfully so. And I'm sorry for that. I'm so sorry for everything, kiddo. Will you look at me? Please?"

Peter opens his eyes, slowly, glancing up at him and then immediately looking down. He doesn't meet his eyes, but Tony can work with that.

Now that he's not frantically trying to shove him off, Tony releases his wrist, carefully holding both of them in one gauntlet and letting the other retract so he can wipe Peter's eyes gently. He doesn't think he's even noticed that the tears have started falling, and he says nothing about it, instead running a hand through his hair gently. "Peter, I'm so sorry. I was going to tell you, I just… wanted you to feel like you had a reason to trust me, first, because I knew who I was wasn't going to be enough for you with everything you went through. When you told me people had hurt you looking for me, I just…" He stops, unsure how to even put into words for anyone to understand how bad that had hurt. "I would have never left you to that, kid. If I had known, I would have helped you, retirement be damned."

"You don't have to say that, Mr. Stark," Peter mumbles, and Tony's heart aches at both the words and at Peter _finally_ addressing him, even if it's by his last name and not what he told him to. "If I had a daughter and a wife like that, I wouldn't want to keep risking myself for nobodies either."

"You're not a nobody," Tony says firmly. "You're a hero, Peter. That's why I made you the suit. And I'm going to fix it, buddy, and you're going to keep doing great things. And this time I'll be watching, and I'll make sure no one ever touches you again." He tilts Peter's chin up, forcing down the pang of disappointment when the younger man closes his eyes rather than meet his. "You still with me, Pete? I'm serious. If you don't want to look at me, or talk to me much, fine. But at least tell me what you want."

Peter is quiet for a long few minutes, sniffling a little. "I just…" He lets out a long breath, still not looking at him. "I just want to go _home_."

Tony sighs, wiping away another stray tear. "We'll get you home as soon as you're better, I promise. Where is home, kid? Do you want to tell me about it?"

A shuddering sob tears from Peter's chest, and Tony realizes his mistake an instant before Peter's answer. "_Nowhere_," the boy whispers, so quietly Tony doesn't think he's supposed to hear it, but he does anyway, and it's an admission that confirms everything he's been worrying about.

"Oh, kiddo," Tony murmurs, feeling his own heart break for him. "Come here."

He pulls him in, and Peter doesn't resist. It's like whatever dam was holding everything back finally breaks, and he's sobbing into him. All the fear and pain and grief and loss and trauma hit him at once, once he allows himself to feel it, and he can't stop until it's all come out. He clings to him, and Tony holds him just as tightly, as if he can anchor the kid and keep him from completely falling apart all by this motion.

Neither of them are sure how long they stay on the floor like that, but eventually Peter starts to calm down. Tony feels everything as his sobs start to teeter off into shaking and his grip loosens some as he tries not to succumb to the major headache and exhaustion. "Easy, kiddo, it's alright," he murmurs, carefully shifting so he can lift the young male and carry him back to the bed.

For the second time, he lays Peter down only to find him stuck to him, and again he simply lies down with him and lets him cling. The only difference is this time Peter is conscious, and he manages to murmur an apology thick with exhaustion before he passes out in Tony's arms.

Tony holds him in silence, resting his head back against the headboard. Part of him knows he needs to go talk to Morgan, needs to explain to her that he didn't know, that he was only trying to protect _all_ of them by keeping the distance he did, but the other part can't fathom leaving Peter and breaking this fragile bit of trust the kid has given him by asking him to stay and falling asleep on him again. He knows if he leaves, Peter will wake up, and if he wakes up without him there… no, he can't do that. Not only because of what Peter will think, but because they need to talk for real. Besides, Happy knows, and he'll talk to her and calm her down in the meantime.

So he just lays there, and eventually tries to doze off himself.


	7. Chapter 7

Peter stirs to a half-whispered argument some time later.

“-can’t believe you didn’t tell him, Tony. What did you think was going to happen?”

“That was exactly what I was afraid of, Bruce,” Tony hisses back. “That’s why I didn’t tell him. And Morgan- God, she was so upset, and I just- I can’t tell a six year old that I prioritized raising her over being a hero. She’s not going to  _ understand _ .” 

While some part of him knows they’re not standing right above his head and shouting, with the pounding headache he has comes a dangerous chance of sensory overload, and  _ damn _ if it doesn’t sound like they are. 

He’ll have to tell the doctor, he supposes. He doesn’t have much choice if he wants appropriate medical care. Still, the thought of it makes him decidedly nervous.

Part of him knows what happened earlier was an overreaction. Yet he feels oddly justified in it, given everything he’s been through, and considering Tony’s own reaction, he couldn’t have been too far off his rocker if the response had been exactly what he was expecting. He isn’t proud of it, but… he can’t say he doesn’t feel that way. Like they were left, like the Avengers have been ungrateful, like they don’t actually care. He doesn’t honestly think he’s too far off the mark with some of them. And okay, accusing Tony of basically using him for money was… ridiculous, after knowing who he was, but he hadn’t known at the time, and it wouldn’t be the first time it happened to him. 

He should apologize. For some of it, at least. Tony has reasons for not being an active hero anymore, and he had given him the suit, even if Peter hadn’t known that until today. He was trying to help in the little ways that he felt he could, Peter could see that now. Plus the money thing might have been a little more insulting than he’d realized, knowing what he did now. 

As if on cue, the second voice - Bruce - blurts, “I think he’s waking up.”

There’s a slight shift against him, and Peter realizes as he opens his eyes slowly that Tony is still laying with him, holding him against his side. The elder hero offers him a smile smile, looking a little abashed. “Hey, kiddo. I didn’t mean to wake you, but you didn’t seem like you wanted me to leave, and, uh, Bruce and I needed to talk. Sorry.”

Peter blinks, surprised at the apology. “I… don’t know why you’re sorry. I woke up on my own. And... you’re not obligated to stay with me.” He vaguely recalled sticking to the man again, but he hadn’t actually asked him to stay, had he? He hadn’t meant to. Why would he have obliged anyway, after the way Peter had freaked out on him? “And if anybody should be apologizing, it’s me. After the way I freaked out-“

“Nuh uh. I’m going to stop you there,” Tony interrupts, holding up a hand. “You shouldn’t be sorry. Everything you said was true. And you’re well within your rights to be upset with me. But for right now, we’re going to pause this conversation, because you have a visitor. Alright?” 

Peter lets out a small breath, but nods. This isn’t an argument he’s going to win right now. Nor is it one he really wants to have with one of his childhood heroes listening in. So he just nods as Tony gestures to the doctor that he now realizes is standing at the foot of his bed, turning his attention to him.

Doctor Banner looks… strikingly like a normal doctor, except he’s pretty small and almost as nerdy looking, kind of like Peter is, although probably in a more attractive way. Peter takes in his nervous stance, the way he moves slowly and deliberately, and instantly realizes that he knows about his fears. This is a man who has experienced exactly the same thing he’s afraid of, and for some reason, the thought makes him relax a little. 

“Hey, Spidey,” the doctor greets softly. “Tony called me to come check you out. You gave him quite a scare. Do you mind if I look at you? I won’t do anything without asking you first, I promise.” He hesitates at the foot of the bed, waiting for him to agree before coming any closer.

Peter frowns. “I- yeah, sure, but…” he looks at Tony. “You didn’t tell him…?”

Tony shakes his head. “I told you, I didn’t tell him anything except that you crashed in and that you were hurt. Your name is yours to give away.”

“Oh.” His voice sounds small, even to his own ears. Well, if that doesn’t make him feel like a fool… “Well, uh, I’m Peter, sir. Thank you for… coming to help me.” He offers him a weak smile. 

Bruce smiles back, stepping up to the bed. “Of course, Peter. I’m always here if you need help, okay?” He puts a hand on his shoulder, and at Tony’s prompting, he realizes he needs to sit up and lets them help him up. “I’m just going to do a basic check up first, then we’ll talk about your injuries. Do you want Tony to stay?” 

Peter hesitates, glancing at the elder man. “I… uh, if he wants to.” He’s nervous, admittedly, but he doesn’t want to ask him to stay, and he’s less scared now than he was before. 

Tony just gives him another one of those sad smiles and squeezes his shoulder. “I’m not going anywhere unless you want me to, Peter. I  _ am _ going to stand up so I’m not in Bruce’s way, though.” 

Peter nods, and Tony slips off the edge of the bed as Bruce approaches again. He stays there the whole time, quietly attentive as the doctor runs through a basic exam. 

Everything goes well until Bruce starts checking his injuries, particularly the arm and leg that were broken. He makes a pained hissing sound through his teeth that makes both of their heads snap up. “How bad is it?” Tony asks.

Bruce sighs, stepping back. “Won’t know until I get an x-ray. But it’s going to need rebroken, at least. The arm too.” 

Peter groans. “Of course it does,” he mumbles, running his hands through his hair. He expected this, for sure, but that doesn’t change the fact that it’s going to hurt like a bitch. 

Tony seems to sense his distress. He comes back over, putting a hand on his shoulder. “This is why I wanted to get it looked at. I know this sucks, but we’ll give you something for the pain, and-“

“You can’t,” Peter interrupts. He looks down, chewing his lip. If he’s going to tell them about his enhancements, it’s now or never. “And… you’ll have to set it quick.”

They both stare at him. “Well, obviously, but- are you refusing pain meds?” Tony raises an eyebrow at him, obviously bewildered. 

“No, I-“ Peter makes a frustrated noise. “I can’t explain it, okay? I don’t understand it. I just- I heal really fast. Or at least I normally do. And pain meds don’t work on me. Not for long, sometimes not at all.” 

Tony’s brow furrows. He looks at Bruce, who seems to be thinking hard. “The only time I’ve ever encountered that was with Steve. Is it possible…?”

Tony straightens, a muscle in his jaw jumping at the mention of the other man. “He’s not anything like Rogers,” he says with a sense of finality. 

Bruce throws him an exasperated look. “Tony, I’m just saying it’s possible that they have similar metabolisms. Do you have any of the enhanced painkillers left?” 

He huffs. “Maybe around here somewhere. But this hasn’t been headquarters for ages, and I don’t exactly carry them.” 

“Me neither, but I can get some pretty quickly.” He sighs. “It’s fine. Just- if I don’t make sure we’re not wrong about this, we could kill him. Do you care if I take some blood, Peter?” 

Peter can’t help but make a face. He’s always hated needles, and recent experiences have done nothing to remedy that. But on the other hand, they’ve also basically desensitized him to the easier stuff, and who  _ knows _ when he’ll have this kind of opportunity to learn about his full capabilities again, so… “Yeah, go ahead.”

~~~

The next few hours are spent between the Medbay and the lab. 

Peter is put through basically every kind of machine and testing they can do without hurting him - everything from x-rays to bloodwork and so much more. Bruce does manage to dig up some painkillers that work for him from somewhere - not enough that it doesn’t actually hurt, but enough to dull the pain after the fact enough that he can sleep. 

When he wakes up, it’s to the sound of the door creaking open, just loudly and quickly enough that he knows it’s not one of the adults. 

“You can come in, Morgan,” Peter calls to the girl, and that’s when she stops peering from around the edge of the door and steps inside for real. 

She closes the door slowly, and he can’t help but be amused at her attempt at being quiet and sneaky. “You’re not supposed to be in here, are you?” he asks, not accusingly, but still gently admonishing.

She shrugs, turning around so that he sees for the first time the paper and the bowl she’s holding in front of her. He also notices the fact that her cheeks are still puffy, even if the immediate redness around her eyes has faded. She pads over and hands them both to him silently. 

He sits up against the pillows, taking them from her. “Thank you.” He looks back down at her, where she stands at the edge of the bed, looking at him, her brown eyes wide and unsure. He bites his lip. He knows she witnessed way too much of the fallout between him and her father, and he can’t help but feel guilty. He really had tried  _ not _ to freak out in front of her, but at some point everyone has to break. Or at least that’s what he’s going to tell himself to pretend that it wasn’t completely unreasonable.

Either way, it wasn’t something she needed to see, and he has some explaining to do. “I… do you want to sit with me?” he offers, scooting over a little to make space for her.

To his surprise, she nods, climbing up on the bed and settling against his side. He’s sore, and it’s not the most comfortable position for him, but she’s not putting pressure on any of his major wounds and he revels in the contact and the  _ trust  _ too much to ask her to shift even slightly. 

Instead, he drops an arm around her, stirring his soup and waiting patiently for her to talk. 

Finally, she does. “Happy said you can’t eat real food, so we made soup, but no one brought you any because you were busy,” she murmurs, her voice small compared to all the personality she’d had when she visited him before. “And… I made you a picture, but I couldn’t give it to you earlier, either.”

Peter blinks, picking up the paper he’d set down in favor of the soup and actually studying it. The sight makes his chest grow warm again. It’s from a coloring book, yes, but… it was him, in his suit, swinging between buildings. His first thought is confusion -  _ how did I end up in a coloring book _ ? - but it’s quickly followed by affection when he notices the scribbles of love and well wishes at the bottom. She’s even gotten Happy to sign it - whoever that was. 

“Thank you, Morgan. I love it,” he says honestly, looking down at her. 

She cracks a smile for the first time since entering, looking up at him with wide brown eyes. “Really?”

“Of course.” 

“You like being here? With me?” 

His brow furrows. “Of course,” he repeats. “You’re my favorite kid.” She’s the only kid he’s been around in years, except for work, to be fair, but that doesn’t make it any less true. 

She seems to consider this. “But… you didn’t seem happy to be here last night.” 

His stomach plummets. “Morgan…” He sighs. He knew they needed to have this talk, yes, but the words and the knowledge of how he’d somehow managed to hurt a child he’d only talked to a handful of times - a child who, despite that, had somehow managed to convince a total stranger to save his life and let him keep his identity secret - still  _ hurt _ .

He knows he’s caused her - and Tony, too - enough emotional turmoil, so the least he can do is be honest and try to fix some of the damage he’d caused. “Listen, kiddo,” he begins softly, squeezing her shoulder gently. “I… It’s not an excuse, but I’ve been through a lot in the past couple years, okay? And so… yes, your dad lied to me, and yes, I was upset by it. But he did it to protect me, because…” he hesitates, looking down. But he knows he has to say it, because it’s true. “...I was being unreasonable,” he admits at last. “And last night, most of what I said was still unreasonable. But I freaked out. Mr. Stark didn’t actually do anything wrong, and… he was helping me, I just didn’t know it. So don’t be mad at him because of me, okay? If anything, you should be mad at  _ me _ .” 

Morgan nods slowly, looking down at her tiny hands in her lap for a moment before finally looking up at him. “Okay,” she agrees. “But… I’m not mad at you, either.”

Despite himself, he relaxes at the acceptance from the little girl. “Thanks, Mo.”

She beams up at him, wrapping her little arms around his waist, squeezing him tightly. He forces out a pained breath silently through his teeth, hugging her back. “I just don’t want you to go,” she murmurs, so quietly he almost doesn’t hear it with the way her face is tucked into his stomach. “But I don’t want to keep you here if you don’t want to be here, either.” 

“Oh, Mo…” Peter softens, clutching the young girl tighter despite the pain it causes him. “I do want to be here, I promise,” he says into her hair. And it’s true, now. He knows he’ll have to leave eventually - billionaire superhero or not, he can’t stay here and live off of Tony’s generosity forever. Even if he would let him, he could never be content that way. But he knows he’s not going anywhere for another few days, at least, until he’s managed to heal his broken limbs well enough to move around on his own. “If I didn’t want to be, I wouldn’t be.” This is also true. If he really wanted to be, then he would have figured out at least an attempted plan of escape by now. But somewhere in the middle of everything, any thoughts of escaping had disappeared. 

She just smiles a watery smile up at him and hugs him tighter. He presses his face against her hair, holding her for as long as she wants to be held. Even though it aggravates his wounds, he finds that he doesn’t mind. Despite only talking to her maybe three times now, at some point he’d also started to adore this little girl. And though that kind of scares him, he can’t say he regrets it. 

The door swings open again some time later. “Morgan-” Tony’s voice, low and frustrated, is audible even before the man fully steps into the room. When he does, and he sees the sight in front of him, he stops dead. 

They’re both still laying together on the bed. Morgan is still wrapped around him, sound asleep with her head still tucked against his stomach. He’s laid back down, arms still draped loosely around her, and his own eyes closed, but they flutter open at the sound of the door opening. Peter looks back at him and offers him a tired smile.

Tony huffs, running a hand down his face. “Shit. I’m sorry, Pete. She didn’t wake you up, did she?”

“Nah,” Peter lies. Tony just raises an eyebrow, clearly not believing him, but he speaks again before the elder man can voice his doubt. “It’s fine, really. I’m glad she came in. I wanted to talk to her anyway.” 

Tony nods, though he still looks skeptical as he steps closer. “About…?”

“About earlier,” Peter admits. He looks down. “I… I was way out of line, Mr. Stark. And I made you look  _ horrible _ in front of her, for no reason other than my own stupidity and paranoia which you did nothing to deserve-” 

Tony raises a hand to stop him. “That’s enough, Peter. The only thing that’s out of line is what you’re saying  _ now _ .” He settles on the edge of the bed, letting a hand rest on Peter’s newly-casted leg. “I lied to you, and that’s on me. Yes, I had reasons, but that doesn’t mean my reasons weren’t shitty. I just…” He stops, looking down and shaking his head a little. “I was so afraid you’d run,” he admits. “I knew if you really wanted to you’d find a way out, and I could have tracked you down, sure, but I didn’t  _ want  _ to have to do that to do. I wanted you to trust me of your own accord. And after you told me what they did to you, because of me…” He trails off, smoothing a hand down his face again. “Kid, I should have told you the truth before. But hearing that… it got to me more than I wanted to admit. I’m so sorry. For  _ all  _ of it.”

“Don’t be,” Peter says immediately. “It wasn’t your fault. I knew the risks when I started the whole hero gig. And I know you helped as much as you felt like you could. Honestly, if it was me…” He looks down at the girl sleeping in his arms and shrugs. “I wouldn’t have wanted to risk it either. You got lucky, Mr. Stark. I would have taken that and ran with it too.”

It’s silent for a few minutes. When he looks up again, Tony is looking at him with sad, tired eyes. “How many did you lose?” he asks quietly. 

Peter looks away again. The pain of it still makes his gut twist to talk about - maybe because he’s never really had anyone to talk about it with before. “Family? Just one,” he answers, equally quiet, feeling almost as if it’s wrong to raise his voice above a whisper when addressing the ones who’d gone missing, regardless of the circumstances. “My aunt. But she was all I had. My friends…” He stops, shrugging again. “All of them. But I only had two to start with, so…”

Tony nods. Something in him breaks even further at the confession, as if he needed more confirmation of how broken the kid was. “So you’ve been alone, all this time?” 

Peter avoids his eyes, looking down at Morgan again instead. “Yeah, for the most part. I’ve stayed with people on and off, done some side jobs to get by, but… mainly, yeah. It’s not as bad as it sounds, though,” he adds quickly. “I mean, no one ever made me do anything I didn’t want to do. Except when I was abducted, but, y’know, that’s a different story entirely-”

“Wait a minute. Just- hold on. You’re not seriously implying what I think you just did.” Tony looks up, and for the first time, from the corner of his eye, Peter can see that he looks a little angry.

He flushes. Okay, maybe. He’s done some things he’s not proud of, but… he did what he had to to survive. There shouldn’t be any shame in that. “Well, I guess that depends on what you think I’m implying,” he mutters, but his blush answers for him. 

Tony groans. “That’s- wrong on so many levels. Jesus, kid. Were you even  _ legal _ ?” 

“Legality is the last thing on a lot of people’s minds, Mr. Stark.” Another dodge, but another one that is clear enough to answer the question for him.

Tony makes a low, frustrated noise instead of commenting. “ _ Christ _ . I can’t even- and  _ stop  _ calling me that. I already told you to call me Tony.” He stands up. “Look, kiddo. I just want you to know you don’t have to worry about that anymore. Not now, not ever.”

Peter frowns, looking up at him for the first time in several minutes. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means that-” Tony stops, seemingly rethinking whatever it was he was initially going to say. “It means you have a place here,” he says at last. “And while I can’t make you stay, I’ll be damned if I let you go back to whatever hellhole you’ve been living in. Just- we’ve got time to talk about it. Promise me you won’t go making any hasty decisions, okay? That you’ll stay until you’re better and we get to talk. No more lies, no more games, no agendas. I just want you to focus on getting better and we’ll go from there. Agreed?” 

Peter considers this for a long moment. Then he looks at the girl in his arms, back to Tony’s earnest, open face, and he nods. “Agreed.”

“Good.” Tony comes up to the head of the bed. “I’ll get Morgan off to her bed, then, and then I’ll bring you some fresh food. Sound fair?” 

He considers saying that Morgan can stay, that he doesn’t mind her there, because he doesn’t, but she’s also laying on his already sore body and he can’t eat this way, anyway. “Fair enough,” he agrees, lifting his arms away from the girl so Tony can lift her off of him. 

Tony takes Morgan and leaves. As promised, a few minutes later he returns with a fresh bowl of soup and an offer of company.

Peter is inclined to take it, but he’s already taken enough of his time. Besides, this day has taken an extreme physical and emotional toll already, and once he starts eating and realizes how hungry he is, he manages to have two bowls of soup. By the time he gets that all down, all he wants to do is sleep again, his body demands rest to re-heal his bones and knit together his wounds, and properly this time. 

Peter finds he doesn’t have much choice but to oblige. Between the exhaustion of this day and the fact that he’s more comfortable and at peace than he’s felt in a long time, he drifts off to sleep almost immediately. 

It’s the best rest he’s had in almost six years.


	8. Chapter 8

Tony stays until Peter falls asleep. 

Then he stays for another few minutes, until he’s sure Peter is completely and  _ soundly  _ asleep, not being plagued by nightmares like he has been every other time he’s fallen asleep. 

“Tony.”

He looks up, startled. Pepper has appeared in the doorway behind him. He instinctively knows she’s been watching him watch Peter for an indeterminate amount of time. Something tells him he should feel embarrassed, or abashed, but instead he just feels tired. “Hey, Pep.”

“Hey.” She comes inside, her footsteps nearly silent. He knows she must have taken her heels off already despite not having changed out of her work outfit, otherwise he would hear them clicking. 

He looks down as she approaches, putting a hand on his shoulder. He brings his up to cover her automatically. “How was the meeting?”

“Boring as they were when you had them,” she says simply, her other hand running through his hair once before dipping to his chin to tilt his head up gently. Her blue eyes are gentle but stern. “Listen, Tony. It’s sweet of you to be concerned, but he’s fine, and you’re hovering. He’s not going anywhere. Just let him get his rest and you can finally get some of your own, yeah?” 

He wants to resist, but he knows she has a point. He really  _ is  _ hovering. Besides, if he wants Peter to trust him, then that trust has to go both ways. The kid said he wouldn’t take off and leave, and Tony had to believe him. 

“Yeah, alright,” he concedes, standing up carefully so he doesn’t jostle the sleeping kid, then wraps an arm around her shoulders, feeling hers slide against his back, and lets her guide him out of the room. 

They’re both quiet until they’ve closed Peter’s door behind them and they’re in the kitchen. They separate long enough to start preparing their own food - reheated soup, simply finishing off the leftovers, but neither of them mind. Pepper makes them both bowls and puts them in the microwave as he gets them both drinks, and they return to the table at the same time. Only when they’re sitting side by side, stirring their soup, do they talk again.

“Pepper…” Tony hesitates, not even sure how to start with what he wants to say. He’s not even sure what he wants to say, really. Does he want to ask her to stay here? To take Peter back with them? Are they prepared for that, the battle it might still cause? And that’s not even mentioning his guilt, and his itching desire to break his retirement long enough to hunt down the bastards that did this to Peter, and all the ones who’d tried to use him to get to him and the other Avengers. 

“I know,” she cuts in, gently, because  _ of course _ she does. “You know I have no problem with him staying, Tony. But you can’t keep him here if he doesn’t want to stay.” 

He lets out a low, frustrated breath. “He agreed to stay until he’s healed, at least. I don’t know if his definition and mine are nearly the same, but… Jesus, Pep. He’s a  _ kid _ . And the things he’s told me… he has no one. From the sounds of it, he’s been living on the streets, doing absolutely horrifying things to get by, and I just…” He shakes his head. “I can’t let him go back to that.”

“You can’t keep him from leaving, Tony. Aside from how  _ illegal  _ that is…” 

He waves her off. “Hardly an issue,” he mutters, and he means it. What was the worst Peter could do, try to call the police? He has a feeling that the kid wouldn’t want to do that, that he doesn’t trust the authorities - and rightfully so. Even if he did, the idea of someone trying to arrest him was laughable. But that was besides the point. He wanted Peter to  _ want  _ to stay. “I just… I don’t know how to convince him to stay,” he says at last. “And even if I can, the likelihood that he’s going to want to leave the city, where he can’t be Spider-Man anymore, even for a short period…” 

“It’d hardly be a short period if you want him to stay for good, Tony,” Pepper points out. Still, she considers it. “We could always move back into the city.”

They could, but he didn’t like that idea, either. He liked living in the lakehouse. He liked not being in surrounded on all sides by chaos all the time. But would he give that up? For Peter, maybe. It was hard to say. 

“I suppose that’s true,” he says at last. “I don’t know, Pep. I’ll have to talk to him, see what he’d be willing to do. I don’t want to drag him with us kicking and screaming, but…” 

“But you’re stubborn as a mule and not wanting to won’t stop you?” Pepper finishes with a small smile. “Yeah, I know.”

Tony can’t help but crack a smile too. “You’re the best, Pep.” He bumps her shoulder playfully.

“I know I am.” She smiles and nudges him back. 

From there, the conversation drifts to the mundane, about work, the company, Morgan, and everything in between, and they sit there long after their food is gone and talk. They don’t even move from the island except for long enough to refill their drinks, which switched from water to actual alcohol as the night progressed. They’re so deep into conversation that neither of them realize how much time has passed until the sound of soft footsteps jolts both of them to attention. 

As light as the footsteps are, both of them immediately think it’s Morgan coming out. Tony glances at the clock, then back at his tablet, which he and Pepper had been looking at something on before the sound had startled them back to reality. “Go back to bed,” he says without looking up. 

“Oh… sorry.” 

Tony nearly jolts from his seat, but Pepper has him beat. She’s up almost before Peter speaks, taking his arm from where he’s leaning heavily against the wall as he shuffles out. “Don’t listen to him, Peter, he’s an idiot. He thought you were Morgan. Did you need something?”

If Peter is phased by Pepper’s sudden appearance or the fact that she knows his name, he doesn’t show it. He offers her a small, shy half-smile and looks down. “No, I’m okay.”

“What are you doing up, then?” Tony isn’t sure if he sounds like a concerned parent or a controlling asshole more, although it might be a bit of both based on the look that Pepper gives him. He can’t help it. On one hand, he knows Peter probably wasn’t doing anything wrong, that he needs to trust him when he promised that he isn’t going to try to run off without talking to him first. It doesn’t look like he’d get very far even if that was what he was trying to do, but the paranoia is still there. 

Peter’s eyes snap to him, slightly wide, and his smile fades. Tony immediately feels like an ass again before he even speaks. “I was just a little hungry and I didn’t want to bother anyone so I thought…”

“Again, he’s an  _ idiot _ ,” Pepper says, sharper this time, as she helps Peter onto a seat at the island. “You’re more than welcome to anything in the house, Peter. Can I make you something particular? Tony and I had leftover soup. I think there’s some more left, if you’d like some of that.” 

Peter bites his lip. “That’ll be fine, Miss Potts. Thank you.” He looks at Tony, and the return of his hesitance makes the elder hero want to smack himself. “Was I not supposed to leave the room?” 

“It’s not like that,” Tony blurts immediately. “I mean… you’re not a hostage here, Peter, and of course you’re not confined to the room. I just…”

“Was worried that I lied?” Peter looks at him, and Tony has to look away. That was exactly it, and he doesn’t want to admit it. “Don’t worry. I would be too. But it’s not like I have anywhere to go, even if I had any way to get there, which I don’t. If that makes you feel any better.” 

“It makes me feel like an asshole,” Tony admits. He sighs. “I’m sorry, Peter. Really. I know if you really wanted to run, you would, but I just… worry.” He leans forward, resting his hands on the table. He may as well lay his cards out now. He feels the urge to reach out to the young vigilante, but he doesn’t want the touch to be rejected - which is well within his rights, and only to be expected with some of what he knows now - so he doesn’t. “Look, I want you to stay. With us. At least for a while. But I don’t want you to feel like you have to, either. Once you’re healed, I’ll let you go, if that’s what you want, but…”  _ I want you to stay. I want you to  _ want _ to stay _ . He doesn’t say it, but he knows the words are implied, that Peter can read them on his face. 

He seems to, and several different emotions flicker across his face before he shuts them down. It only occurs to him the complete irony of what he said - telling him he’s not a prisoner, but that he essentially has to what he wants for him to let him go, regardless of whether it’s something he would do anyway, in nearly the same breath - when he registers the tinge of residual fear and resignation that flashes on Peter’s face. He wants to say something to fix it, but Peter speaks before he gets the chance. 

“I…” he stops, looking down at the bowl of soup as Pepper sets it in front of him. “Thanks, Miss Potts. I’m… flattered, Mr. Stark, really, but you don’t owe me anything. I know you think you do, because I’m another superhero and because I got hurt by people looking for you and because you don’t feel like you did enough or whatever, I’m sure there’s more reasons I don’t know, but you  _ don’t _ . I don’t blame you for any of it, not anymore. There’s no point. And I’m not really interested in being a charity case nor do I have any names for you if this is about a vendetta, so…”

“Is that what you think this is?” Tony blinks at him, surprised. He probably shouldn’t be, but he is. “Peter, you’re not a charity case. You’re a hero - one of us, more so now than any of us really. And while I want to know who the hell spent the past six years torturing you, yes, it’s a general want to go out and murder them, not just the ones who were looking for me, I assure you. And I’m plenty capable of finding them on my own, if I actually decided to.” He does reach out to him now, putting a hand on his forearm. “And hero or no, Peter, I would still want to help you. You could quit being Spider-Man in the next five minutes and I would still want to help you. I supported Spider-Man as a vigilante hero because of the man behind the mask. What you do, and who you are, inside and out. I don’t just put my faith in people randomly, and I definitely don’t make multimillion dollar suits for charity cases I care nothing for.” He pauses. “And I swear, kid, you need to call me Tony.”

Peter chews his lip. “ _ Tony _ ,” he begins, slowly, his brows drawn together. “You didn’t even know who I was.” 

“Didn’t I?” He leans forward. “Kid, I told you. I sent you the suit. I spent my time and money working on it. Did I do that for any of the other vigilantes? No. As you so astutely noted, I don’t support most of them. I knew who you were. I watched you. I didn’t do as much as I could have, nor did I know the extent of your life or activities - obviously, or this wouldn’t have happened, but… you weren’t a charity case. It’s not like that at all.”

“But you asked my name,” Peter points out, brows furrowing.

Tony has the decency to look slightly abashed. “I… knew your name. But I didn’t want to freak you out more by already telling you I already knew. It would have been a lot of questions and I just…” 

He can see the moment it clicks in Peter’s head. “Ah,” he murmurs, thunderclouds clearing a little. “I see.” 

It’s silent for a moment, but then Pepper breaks in. “The point is, Peter, you’re not a charity case. We want to help you, and that’s all. But you have to let us.” 

Peter looks back at her and nods slowly. “Okay, but… how? Because as much as I appreciate it… I can’t stop.” He looks back at Tony, biting his lip. “You can’t make me stop.”

“I don’t want to make you stop. Not permanently. God, I know I couldn’t if I tried. I  _ do  _ want you to take a break and heal. And so help me, yes, if I have to make you do that, then I will.” Tony pauses, studying him for a moment before adding, “Besides, if I wanted to make you stop, I wouldn’t have told you I was fixing your suit, would I?”

That gives Peter a pause, and Pepper uses it to jump in again, carefully, placing her hand over Peter’s and giving it a gentle squeeze. “What we’re saying isn’t that we want to make you stop, Peter. Although I think the fact that you’re worried about us trying is just proof that even you realize it would be better for your health. But while we don’t want to make you stop, not permanently, we think it would be good for you to take a break. Preferably get out of the city for a while, so you’re not tempted to go out before you’re fully healed.”

“And also before I can figure out who the hell did this to you,” Tony adds. 

Peter frowns and looks back at him. “So you are going to go after the people who did this?”

“What, did you think I was going to just let it go? Yeah, I don’t think so. I’ll have them taken care of as soon as possible, believe me.” Tony shakes his head. “This is personal, now. Not just because of what happened to you, but if they’re looking for me, they can’t have good intentions. I have a family to protect.” He glances at Pepper, who smiles a little.

Peter takes a tentative bite of soup, seeming to consider this. “If I agree to stay with you until I’m healed enough to patrol again… will you let me help?”

Tony leans forward, itching to reach for him again but still holding back. The last thing he wants is to risk this progress. “Help with what? Your suit? Catching them?” 

Peter bites his lip. “I meant with catching them, but I would love to help with my suit, if you think there’s something I could do,” he admits quietly.

Tony presses his lips together, thinking about it for a moment. “I’ll tell you what,” he says finally, leaning forward a little more. “After all you’ve been through, I can hardly deny you the right to help me catch the people who did this to you, and having your help will definitely make it considerably easier, so consider that done. If you’re willing to stay, we can stay wherever you’re most comfortable. If that’s here, we can do that. We’ll stay. But if you agree to actually leave the city and come back to the lake house with us, to try and get the rest we know you  _ really _ need... I won’t just repair your suit. I’ll make a new one, and I’ll let you help. We’ll build it from scratch, and we can build whatever you want into it. Unlimited creative input, anything and everything you’ve ever wanted in there. But you have to really try to rest and heal, got it?”

Peter stares at him. His lips twitch and his eyes are bright, like he’s trying to suppress his excitement at the idea. “Really?” He sounds so disbelieving, so tentatively hopeful that it makes Tony’s chest ache. 

“Really. Absolutely,” Tony promises. He carefully lays his hand over the arm Pepper was already touching, giving them both a gentle squeeze. “Do we have a deal?”

The huge grin that breaks across Peter’s face at the words is almost confirmation enough, but his next words just solidify it. “When do we leave?”


	9. Chapter 9

The when, as it turns it, comes sooner than he had intended. 

Pepper’s meetings are done, so there’s no reason, now, for them to remain in the city. Extensive as Peter’s injuries were, he hadn’t imagined that the boy would want to be moved so soon, and that, deal or no deal, he’d be hesitant to leave the city at all. 

And while getting him to agree had been hell, getting him to follow through… not so much. 

Bright and early the next morning, he goes to check on Peter, hoping that Morgan’s conspicious quiet didn’t mean that she’d gone to bother the vigilante as soon as she’d opened her eyes, but entirely suspicious that she had. He hasn’t seen or heard from Peter, or Jarvis, regarding him, this morning, but then again, he’s barely been up long enough to make his cup of coffee. But also… yeah, that’s been enough time for him to grow suspicious at not hearing anything. 

And rightfully so, he discovers as he knocks lightly on Peter’s door and then cracks it open to find both Peter and Morgan wide awake and apparently coloring together on Peter’s bed. 

Both of them look up when he enters, and oddly, only the one who’s not his biological kid is the one that looks immediately abashed. 

“Sorry, Mr. Stark, she came in and I was awake, and I tried to get her to go back to sleep but she didn’t want to and I thought I could keep her out of your hair for a while-”

“Peter,” Tony interrupts gently, holding up a hand. The boy falls silent immediately, but Tony just offers him a small smile. “It’s fine. I’m more concerned about her waking you up than anything.” 

Morgan has gone back to her picture, but she looks up, looking as offended as a six year old can at the accusation. “He was awake when I came in, daddy. I just came to keep him company.” 

“So I hear. And you knew that before you came in, I suppose?”

“Yes. I asked Jarvis,” she answers, matter of factly, then goes back to her picture. 

Tony sighs, but he can’t argue with that answer. He could ask Jarvis to be sure, but it’s not going to make a difference either way, and they’ve already established at this point that Peter’s bad enough at lying that he would probably be able to tell if he was covering for her. 

He walks over and scoops Morgan up, setting her on his lap. “Peter’s not here just to play with you, little miss. Just remember that.”

“But he likes it!” Morgan protests, looking up at him with wide eyes.

“I don’t mind, Mr. Stark, really,” Peter adds helpfully. 

“See!” Morgan squirms in his lap. “Can we go back to coloring now?”

Tony shakes his head, exasperated. He can already see that the two of them are going to be quite a pair. He just doesn’t know if he’s ready for it or not. “I suppose you could. But don’t you want to help me make breakfast?”

“Or… we could… finish our pictures and help you after?” Morgan suggests, looking up at him with wide, hopeful eyes.

Tony glances at Peter, but the teen also seems to be waiting on his answer. He sighs. “I suppose so. You’ve only got a few minutes, though, understand? You have to eat, and so does Peter, so he can get better.”

She wriggles excitedly and climbs off his lap. “Okay!” she agrees easily. 

He stands, looking at them both coloring happily, and just shakes his head again before heading for the door. 

As promised, they both appear in the doorway to the kitchen several minutes later, with a sleepy Pepper not far behind. Tony hands his wife a cup of coffee as she settles at the counter, and takes the picture that Morgan offers him as she climbs up on the stool beside her mother. Peter is a little behind both of them, not entirely steady on the crutches Bruce had insisted he use after he reset and checked all of his injuries, but making his way there slowly but surely. He hadn’t used them last night, and it had taken both Tony and Pepper to get him back to bed. Though neither of them had said anything, Peter clearly doesn’t like to be a bother in any form, and has apparently decided to use them, whether to save them the trouble or himself the pain. Tony doesn’t really mind the reason so long as he complies. 

Tony pins the picture to the fridge, then turns back to them, brandishing a plastic spatula. “Well, you’re all a bit late to help, but thankfully, the food is still warm, and I’ll be nice and let you help me eat it.” He winks at them, earning a playful eye roll from Pepper, a giggle from Morgan, and a small, unsure smile from Peter. It feels like a triumph. 

He returns to the stove to make up their plates, humming a little as he fills them and passes them out. He’s just settling down next to Pepper when the little girl looks at her parents and asks, “When are we going home?”

A simple question, but one that makes everyone else at the table freeze. Tony looks at Peter immediately, unable to help it, then to Pepper, then flicks back to Peter before settling on Morgan to address her. The teen is silent, and is watching him when he looks at him, clearly curious about the answer himself. “We’ll go back to the lakehouse when Peter is ready,” Tony answers, after a moment of silence. 

Morgan frowns. “When will that be?”

“When he’s  _ ready _ ,” Tony repeats. “Depending on how he feels, it’ll take time. You can’t rush him, Morgan.”

Her little face scrunches as she considers this, and she tilts her head back to look up at Peter, seated at her side. “When do you think you’ll be ready to go home with us, Petey?”

“ _ Morgan _ ,” Pepper scolds, but Peter waves it off.

“It’s alright, Miss Potts. Really. Honestly, after our talk last night, I’d assumed we’d be leaving today.” Peter shrugs, picking at his food with his good arm. 

“And I told you last night that we could leave when you were ready,” Tony says. And he did. He’d told Peter when he asked that they could go when Peter was ready, sure that he was comfortable enough both with them and healed enough that the ride wouldn’t cause him immense pain, and Peter had accepted that answer before allowing Tony and Pepper to help him back to bed, as he’d tried to get up soon after and found the pain in his leg to be close to too much again from it’s recent reset. 

Peter holds up a hand in mock-surrender. “I know, and I appreciate that, but… what’s the point in waiting? Your work in the city is done, and I can’t do anything no matter where I am. We may as well all be as comfortable as we can, and you guys are most comfortable out there.” 

Morgan bounces on her stool. “So we can go home?”

Tony and Pepper exchange another look, and they both shrug. “Sure,” Tony says. “We can go home today.” 

“Yay!” Morgan bounces happily. “You’ll love it out there, Petey. It’s so pretty and quiet.” She shoves a bite of food in her mouth. “It’s so loud in the city, but not there. And we have a lake, too! We could go swimming!”

“Not right now, he can’t,” Tony interrupts. “And you won’t be doing anything until we can get there, little miss, which means you better stop flapping away and eat your food. The sooner we’re all done here, the sooner we can get on the road.”

Morgan makes a face at him, animated as always, but goes quiet and starts digging into her food. While the city is always exciting to her, for a few days, her home was the lakehouse, pure and simple. She didn’t have near the freedom in the city or the affinity for it that her parents had, and it showed, every time they were there for more than a few days. That might change when she gets a little older -- just like it had for Tony -- but for now, her preference was clear. 

Everyone else follows her example, and the table goes quiet but for the sound of forks hitting plates and the occasional condiment bottle. The silence isn’t awkward, though; it’s comfortable. At this point, most everything is out in the open, and everyone on the same page, so there’s no reason for it not to be. 

When they start to finish up, Tony glances at Morgan. “Why don’t you go get ready, Mo?”

Picking up on what he’s trying to do immediately, Pepper pushes her plate aside and stands. “Yeah, that’s a good idea. Come on. Let's go together and help each other pack.” 

“Okay!” Morgan pushes her plate away too and hops up, following her mother. A moment later, they both disappear down the hall, leaving Tony and Peter alone again. 

Peter seems to shrink back into his shell as soon as both women are gone. Tony lets out a breath and picks up the empty plates, carrying them to the sink and beginning to clean them before speaking. “Are you full? Was that enough for you?”

“Huh? Oh. Yeah, I’m full. It was good, Mr. Stark. Thank you.”

“Tony, kid.” Tony shakes his head. “And I’m glad to hear it. If you’re sure you’re done, I’ll take your plate. But we’re going to be on the road a while, so if you want more, don’t be shy.” 

“I’m okay. Here you go.” He pushes the plate over to his side of the table and falls silent again. 

Tony takes it, washing them silently for a moment. “Are you sure you want to leave today? Morgan doesn’t really know any better, but even still, you shouldn’t let her push you if you’re not ready. We can stay as long as you’d like.”

“I know. But like I said… there’s no reason to stay here, either. We may as well.” He pauses. “I don’t want to keep you guys away from home. It’s not like there’s one here I’m itching to go back to, so…”

It’s true, Tony supposes, though he decides to skirt around that touchy subject for now and not risk Peter closing off so much again. “Right. Well, I was going to ask you… do you have a preference for how we get there? I can take you, separately, so we can make more frequent stops and you have more room to move around. If we go with Pepper and Morgan, we might get there quicker, but Morgan probably won’t leave you alone the whole time, and you won’t have much room or time to stretch or anything.” 

“Oh…” Peter sounds surprised, like he hadn’t even considered it. “Well, it doesn’t matter that much to me, either way. I’m happy with either, so long as we get there.” 

Of course he wouldn’t pick one or the other and make Tony’s life easier. He understands, but it still saddens him, to an extent. “I think I’ll take us separately,” Tony tells him. “If that’s okay with you. Then we can stop and grab you some clothes and such, too.” 

“Hm?” Peter looks up at him. “Mr. Stark-“

“ _ Tony.” _

“Tony,” Peter repeats, then shakes his head. “Thank you, but… how can I possibly accept anything else from you? I don’t need clothes. Or anything, really-“

“You need everything, because you’ve had nothing, including clothes. You quite literally  _ need  _ them. And it’s simple. You  _ can  _ accept it because I want to give it to you and because I have more money than anyone ever should in one life so there’s no reason I can’t buy you anything, Peter.”

Peter frowns, looking unconvinced. “But…”

“No buts. C’mon, kid. I just want to help here. And I can be  _ very  _ persuasive if I have to be. Besides, do you have another retired superhero waiting somewhere to help you? Because I don’t think you’re going to get an opportunity just like this one anywhere again.”

Peter flinches a little. “I mean, no… though I  _ have  _ had help before, just not consistently…”

_ “Not consistently  _ enough that you were having to whore yourself out to get your basic needs met — when you were even capable of that.” Tony shakes his head. “I can’t and won’t let that happen again, Peter. Period.”

Peter crosses his arms. “Fine. Whatever. But I don’t know why you had to make it sound like I had a choice when you didn’t intend to give me one, then. Do me a favor and cut the crap next time. Save us both valuable time and breath.” 

Tony blinks. “Kid-“

“No, I’m-“ Peter stops, running his hands through his hair and looking immediately remorseful. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t snap. I know you just want to help, but… It’s been six years, Mr. Stark. I know I’ve made some questionable choices, but I did what I had to to survive. And as much as I appreciate your help now, you’ll have to excuse me if I have a hard time accepting your help. Especially when you keep going on about how  _ easy _ it is for you to give. If it’s so easy, then where have you been for the past six years? Did you really think giving me a suit was going to help me survive better when literally almost no one who doesn’t live in your little one percent of the world bubble has  _ everything _ they need to live right now?” Tony opens his mouth again, but Peter waves him off. “Spare me the apology. I’m not asking you to apologize for something you wouldn’t change. Just lay off throwing your clout around. It makes me sick.” 

Tony closes his mouth slowly. The guilt hits him like a ton of bricks in the chest, but it’s a feeling he’s used to, at least. Seeing Peter look so  _ tired  _ and haggard, as if the energy the outburst had taken had left him exhausted, is something else entirely. He doesn’t even sound angry anymore. Tony almost wishes he did. Anger is easier to deflect and deal with than laid-bare emotion. 

He forces himself to take a breath, think about how he should respond, but he doesn’t get the chance. Morgan comes bounding out of the hallway, a backpack already over her shoulders, and her mother in tow. “We’re ready to go!” she announces helpfully.

Tony scoops her up, both grateful and sad for the distraction ending the conversation there. But he pushes the thoughts out of his mind for a moment nonetheless. He swears the girls can smell his inner turmoil sometimes. “Are you, now? Well then. We shouldn’t keep you waiting any longer, should we?” 

“Nope!” Morgan chirrups happily. She looks at Peter, then back at her father, expectantly, seeming confused by the fact that neither of them appear to have moved. “Are you ready?”

“Peter and I are almost ready. But we’re riding separately from you two. So you can go now, and not have to wait on us.” He passes her over to Pepper, who tilts her head but seems to guess his intentions without asking, and so doesn’t. 

“You’re not coming with us? Why not?” Morgan whines, oblivious to the understanding between the adults. 

“Peter and I need to make a few pit stops, sweetheart. It’ll be easier and quicker for everyone if it’s just the two of us,” Tony tells her. He ruffles her hair. “We’ll both be back home with you before you know it.”

Morgan pouts, but nods. “Okay… I guess.” She reaches up for a hug, and Tony smiles and complies, pressing a kiss to her head before leaning back and letting Pepper take her fully. 

He kisses his wife’s head as well, running a hand down her back as he passes. “I’ll take your bags out to the car. I’ll be back in a minute, Pete,” he adds over his shoulder, in the boy’s general direction, just to make sure he realizes he’s not leaving him, especially for long. He feels like an ass for still not trusting him completely but… he’s still, well, nervous. 

He gets a quiet, “Yes, sir,” in response, which is frankly more than he expected, though not as encouraging as he’d like, either. He doesn’t allow himself too much time to dwell on it though, instead heading back to grab his girls’ things and get them loaded into the car. 

Several minutes later of loading bags, goodbyes, and assuring Pepper where Morgan can’t hear that he definitely has a plan, and knows what he’s doing, even though he most decidedly does not, and he’s on his way back into the penthouse, trying to decide how best to proceed with the conversation, or if it’s best to proceed with it at all. Maybe he should just drop the whole thing. Pretend like that conversation never happened, have someone else pick him up some basic clothes and drop them off at the lake house, and try to make the ride there as un-awkward as possible. 

But no. Maybe he shouldn’t. They’d been on the verge of real communication, after all. Not exactly what he’d wanted to hear, sure, but maybe as honest as Peter had been with him since he arrived. And that step, the vulnerability of it, had to matter more than whatever it was he would say. 

Peter is still sitting at the table when he enters the kitchen again. He’s put his head down, pillowed on his arms, his eyes closed as he rests there, clearly either not expecting to be observed or uncaring that he is. For a moment, he almost looks… peaceful. The way he should look as he sleeps -- relaxed, open, resting -- but never seems to be when Tony checks on him, plagued by constant nightmares the way he is. The sight draws him up short. 

Thankfully, he’s spared from trying to decide how to proceed by the younger man lifting his head up just then, tired, wary eyes fixing on him. “Ready to go, now?”

Tony takes a little breath. “Yeah. Are you?”

Peter just nods. It hits him how exhausted Peter looks, and just how small, young, and he has to wonder if he’s always looked like that, or if he’s just now noticed it. Was it their talk that drained him? Or was he just hiding it all morning from Morgan, and from all of them?

The latter seems much more likely. He makes a mental note to have a talk with Morgan again, then shakes the thoughts away. Peter is still looking at him, crutches in hand, waiting. 

Tony just sighs. “Alright, kid. Let’s get this show on the road.” 


End file.
